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by loveinslowmotion



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift - Fandom
Genre: Apartment AU, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Haylor, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 19:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 190,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinslowmotion/pseuds/loveinslowmotion
Summary: It took Harry three months to meet the girl next door, and only one day to realise she was everything he ever wanted.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Fam!! I can't believe it's finally here. I've been working on and off on this fic for a ridiculous amount of time and I can't even begin to explain how I feel about finishing it. It all started with the small idea from [this](http://awful-aus.tumblr.com/post/112041037663/awful-au-35) text post and somehow snowballed into this long story with a million things I just couldn't end up squeezing in. 
> 
> This is all a work of fiction - I have no affiliation with any real people, places, etc, etc. Not everything is realistic, but that's why it's called fiction, isn't it?
> 
> Just a few things to note: Out of convenience, there are a lot of original characters featured throughout the story, so if you don't recognise a name, that's why. There are many time skips (particularly in the eighth chapter) but it should still make sense as to where things are up to. You can fill in the blanks with your own headcanons. I also used Cambridge dictionary's translator where needed, so apologies for any mistakes.
> 
> You can check out my otp tag especially for this fic [here](http://klossrps.tumblr.com/tagged/otp:%20make%20this%20feel%20like%20home), if you're interested in some more places I found muse. Since the storyline is music heavy, I've also compiled a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/fionakaay/playlist/0B4RXwCQdwQ5trFu9PA4EB) you can listen to featuring all of the songs mentioned throughout, as well as some additional ones I found muse in. If you're interested in listening, I'd recommend perhaps waiting until after you've finished reading to avoid any hits at spoilers (you'll know where everything fits in once you're through). 
> 
> And finally, thank you to everyone who has offered me encouragement - I wouldn't have finished this without you. You're amazing, you know who you are, and I love you.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing. Please feel free to leave comments or messages on [tumblr](http://alltootay.tumblr.com/) while you're reading - it's been such an emotional journey writing this and it'd mean so much to me to hear what you think!
> 
> All the love, F xx

“Wakey, wakey, Baby Mick.”

Harry lifted his head at the chirpy voice chiming beside his desk, scrunched up balls of paper flying off his fan of dark curls. Through sleepy eyes he could see his boss smiling down at him.

“Didn’t get enough sleep last night, eh?”

“Sorry, Liza,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in his chair. “I’ll–”

“–Go take a nap in the lounge and finish my article later,” she finished his sentence with a friendly nod, sweeping away onto the next desk with her long skirt swaying at her sandaled feet, bracelets jingling on her wrists.

“Thank you,” he called after her, receiving a thumbs-up in return, again reminded why he was thankful for landing this job. The one time he fell asleep at his last office he was sprayed with a water mister like a misbehaving cat or one of the many potted plants decorating every available space.

Harry saved the nowhere-near-being-finished document he had open on his laptop after deleting the smash of random letters that had filled thirty whole pages when he had fallen asleep with his hand resting on the keyboard twenty minutes ago. There were small balls of lined paper littered all over his usually neat desk, some scattered on the floor, too. He looked over his shoulder to see a grinning face staring at him from the desk diagonal from his.

“Have fun?” he smiled back, lobbing one of the balls back in the man’s direction. It hit the back of an organiser tray and bounced onto the pale floorboards.

“I was beginning to think I’d end up going through my whole notebook and you still wouldn’t wake up,” his friend, Jared, teased. “You sleep like a rock, you know? One hit you right in the forehead and you didn’t even flinch.”

He smiled, starting to collect up the mess of paper. “I wish I’d been more like that last night.”

Harry bundled the balls in his arms, his boots tapping on the wooden floor as he went to toss them in the recycling bin at the front of the room. The black tin, identical to the one beside it, had a sign above it reading ‘ECO FRIENDLY’ with a hand-drawn tree done by Illustrator Eric. The sign blu-tacked next to it read ‘ALL YOUR OTHER SHIT’. Liza gave him an appreciative smile when she saw him follow them correctly.

The office was an open aesthetic, with all but the boss’ desk located in the one room. Only a small team, they were spaced out in staggered rows that meant that they had empty gaps both in front and behind and on their left and right so that everyone had their own creative bubble that wasn’t crowded by anyone else’s. It was easy to pick who sat where – Eric’s laptop was hidden by loose sheets of paper, pens peeking out from underneath books; Jared’s had a stack of DVD’s and notepaper on his; one of the girls, Jourdan, always had an open container of some delicious concoction and the matching recipe open on the opposite side of her laptop. There was Harry’s, placed near the window with a pile of CD’s sitting beside a small potted plant he remembered to water every few mornings he came in. Liza liked the calming vibe it added to his space; Harry liked that it reminded him of home.

“What was it this time?” Jared wondered as he started following Harry out to the lounge, giving himself another break. The office rules were pretty simple – come in when you’re scheduled, do what you want as long as you get your pages done by the due date. You couldn’t be too serious when there was a PlayStation hooked up to the TV in the ‘CHILLAX ZONE’ (another Illustrator Eric sign). Everyone was guilty of spending too much time in the bean bags or on the six-seater couch at some stage.

_“Mmm, baby girl, you feel so good,”_ Harry mocked, voice a pitch higher as he ran his hands down his torso. Jared laughed beside him as they slipped into the wide room painted the same shade of cool blue, and Harry fiddled with his belt buckle. _“Mmm, babe– fucking come with me, baby girl.”_

“Jesus Christ.”

“Believe me, I prayed to him, but he was held up elsewhere.”

Harry flopped down on the couch, the dark hue hiding stains from messy lunches past. He laid on his back, tucking his hands underneath his head and staring up at the ceiling. He heard Jared open the fridge on the opposite side of the room.

“And you still haven’t met her?” Jared checked, cracking open a can of lemonade as he went to fall into one of the nearby spotted bean bags.

“Nope,” Harry replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Jesus.”

Harry’s eyes closed and he shrugged briefly. The wallpaper in his apartment was a peeling off-white, though he gave less of a shit about that than he did about the thinness of the plaster. He had a theory that the rooms in the building were set up symmetrically – two adjacent rooms reflected each other through their shared wall, so for some their bathrooms were directly opposite each other, as were their bedrooms and then the main rooms next to those. He had been lucky enough to score the room with this symmetry next to this couple who got it on regularly and _loud_. He was yet to even meet the girl who rented the place, despite having moved in over three months ago. For all he knew, her name actually _was_ ‘baby girl’.

“’s not so bad on the couch,” he said. “Can’t really hear them from there.”

“I’d be worried if you could.”

“Mmm. I’ve heard enough things I wish I never had to hear.”

“Does she call him ‘daddy’?”

Harry laughed, scrunching his nose. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”

“I still stand by my theory that you’re living next door to porn stars.”

“Maybe you can do a spread on them.”

Smirking, the pair of them descended into immature giggles. That was one topic they sure wouldn’t get passed by Liza.

“Don’t you have a page to work on anyway?”

“Alright, alright. I can take a hint,” Jared grinned, beans shifting noisily as he stood up. “Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry was smiling as he turned on his side, the sound of footsteps getting further away until the only noises in the room were the gurgling of the fridge and the water cooler. The quiet had him falling asleep almost instantly.

 

*** * * * ***

 

The rest of the afternoon went a lot nicer with an hour’s nap to recharge his energy. Harry returned to his desk and powered through his current article, saving it and adding a dot point on his To Do list to edit it later. He hung around longer than usual, taking advantage of the company Wi-Fi instead of rushing back to his apartment. He was third last to leave, with Liza kindly wishing him a better night’s sleep on his way out.

Brown leather bag slung over his shoulder, it bumped against his hip as he took his regular route home. Harry made a quick stop at the supermarket on the way, picking up some things for dinner. The pedestrian traffic on the streets of New York City bundled him along as speedily as ever; not once had he ever driven himself anywhere here. His English licence was near useless sitting in one of the card slots of his wallet when his two legs got him almost everywhere he needed to go.

Harry ran into his neighbour on his other side on his way up the stairs of the apartment block. He didn’t know the slightly older man all that well, but after first chatting at the mailbox one morning they were friendly with each other whenever their paths crossed. They exchanged ‘hey’s with warm smiles, the scraggly-haired blonde going the opposite way giving him a wave. Harry preferred Will – he either didn’t spend a lot of time in his apartment or he had a knack for going about his life silently.

It was well after six by the time he settled back into his apartment for the day. He returned to the not-nearly-comfortable-enough couch he had slept on the previous night, pushing the blankets down to one end. Mindlessly he scrolled through his Instagram feed on his phone while he half paid attention to the TV in front of him. He never knew quite what to do with himself here when he wasn’t at work.

The idea of moving to New York had sounded a lot more glamourous than it had actually turned out to be. Arguably, the dorm he shared with five other guys back at uni was better than his place now. There they each had their own bedrooms with shared bathrooms, common room, kitchen and laundry – here Harry had everything minus the laundry to himself, but it didn’t settle quite right with him. Maybe it was the thin walls, or the dull grey flooring, or the lack of furnishings because of his budget, or that his British-ness didn’t fit in with everyone else around him. Or maybe it was just that he went from living with five of his best mates to living in a city where he had no one.

Harry had debated going back to London to figure things out with his friends at his side, but every five days he still got up and went to work, finding enjoyment in the things he had. He didn’t want to return lost and disappointed. Harry Styles wasn’t a quitter.

Harry cooked himself some spaghetti early, over-doing it with the pasta as was always destined to happen. He ate in front of the television, watching _Simpsons_ reruns as he tried not to flick specks of homemade sauce all over his cream button down. Apart from one tiny dot at the hem, he managed to succeed.

He put the leftovers in a container and froze them for his lunch tomorrow. That was one of the benefits of living alone – so used to cooking for multiple people, it was routine for him to make too much for just himself, so at least he always had something nice to take into work. That couldn’t quite outweigh the loneliness of eating practically every meal with only his own company, though.

Thanks to the handy world clock app on his phone, Harry had long since worked out the time difference from here and home, and at around midnight in London he could hope for someone to still be up to cure his solitude. Grabbing his laptop from his bag and sliding back onto the couch, he connected to the less-than-desirable Wi-Fi network and signed into Facebook. The green dot next to one friend gave him daily relief.

**Louis Tomlinson:** _Recruited zayn for the play, gonna be sick ! Think you’ll be able to come back for it?_

Harry smiled and typed back quickly.

**Harry Styles:** _How’d you manage that? Might be able to, need to check I can afford it. NY is fucking expensive._

He responded to the few other messages he had accumulated over the day – one from his older sister Gemma complaining about her roommate’s cooking, one from Zayn telling him Louis had threatened to burn his stack of Marvel comics if he didn’t help out with the musical he was putting on at the school they both worked at, one from another friend Niall linking him to a music video, and 67 new messages in their group chat currently fondly entitled “you all fucking suck” after a heated debate about Harry’s hair a few weeks ago. (In his defence, he had grown his hair out when he was twenty and still in London, but they still liked to tease him about it now)

**Louis Tomlinson:** _You’ve forgotten my persuasive powers, young one. You’re shit._  
**Harry Styles:** _Zayn said you threatened him again. Sorry :/_  
**Louis Tomlinson:** _I did no such thing. Apology not accepted._  
**Louis Tomlinson:** _Will you /at least/ read the script?_

When Harry was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old stepping into the dorm building he had been assigned for the first time, he had had his hair ruffled by someone else dragging in their suitcase at the same time. He’d thought it strange that this guy he didn’t even know was messing his hair and greeting him with a loud hello, disappearing into his own allocated room without so much as a mention of his name, but that very boy had quickly become his best friend. Louis Tomlinson was in the room next to his; he was a couple years older with some more life experience and he gladly took Harry under his wing. The pair of them were each other’s constant support – they helped each other through stress, homesickness, heartbreak, and everything in between. All the guys in the house had become great friends, but Harry’s connection with Louis had always been different. For one, he had been the one who had convinced Harry to switch degrees.

The first few weeks of university had been a miserable routine of showing up to lectures and tutorials, studying all night and wanting to cry because it was all so _dull_. Sure, being a lawyer sounded like an impressive career option, but in reality it had bored the shit out of him. He barely spent any time having fun or getting to know anyone because he was too busy trying to understand what on earth was going on in class. Louis had confronted him about it when he found him asleep with his head next to a bowl of cereal at the dining table for not the first time and had let him know that it was okay to change his mind about what he wanted. He’d helped him figure out what he might actually be good at, and on the day before the final date for course changes he had sat beside Harry as he filled out the form to enrol in journalism. They’d been close ever since.

Now, Louis was in Manchester working as a drama teacher, alongside one of their other dorm mates, Zayn, who was an English teacher by day and artist by night. Then there was Niall, who had spent many nights blasting tunes at all hours and was now still in London assisting producers at a music studio. Liam, back home in his town of Wolverhampton and relishing in widespread admiration for the time he pulled a kitten out of a burning backyard shed two months ago. (If you Google “Liam Payne” there are tons of images of the firefighting hero cuddling the cute little cat) Ed, who was paving his way to success as a singer/songwriter, playing gigs all over the UK after the release of his first album. And then there was Harry, all the way in New York running music spreads for an indie magazine.

Harry was on the other side of the world to all of his friends, all of which were doing what they wanted and still living close enough to each other to see each other regularly. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous.

At least he still had their daily Facebook messages and texts, and the occasional video chat whenever things lined up. It wasn’t all bad.

Harry spent an hour messaging Louis, learning about his plans for the _Little Mermaid_ musical he had gotten approved for the next school year. (Yeah, Harry had been surprised when Louis had first told him they were doing a take on _The Little Mermaid_ , but Louis had assured him the script was funnier than it sounded and he had the _perfect_ girl lined up for Ariel.) He let Louis go when he remembered that not everyone had the luxury of starting work after nine.

He spent the next few hours killing time, watching a couple of music videos on his laptop and jotting down notes for possible upcoming themes. He found a film to watch on Netflix and retreated to his bedroom with a couple of Oreos to munch on through it. He should’ve known he was going to eat them all within the first five minutes, but once he was comfortable lying on top of the blankets he couldn’t really be bothered moving to get more until the movie was over.

It was half past eleven when Harry forced himself up and into the bathroom for a shower. He left his clothes folded at the foot of his bed, on top of piles waiting to be washed or put back in his small built-in wardrobe. He strolled bare into the grey tiled room, starting to run the water as he took off the few pieces of jewellery he had on. He left them on the counter and stepped under the warm stream, letting it wash off the day.

Now, Harry was a shower singer. He was a sing-around-the-house person, he was a sing-the-song-that’s-stuck-in-my-head-at-work person, he was a sing-the-song-that’s-playing-over-the-store-speakers person, but _god_ , was Harry a shower singer. Maybe it was just the protection of having the sound of the beating water battling to drown him out, but it was the one place where Harry felt completely comfortable to let his voice do its thing. No one was going to judge him when all he had was the half-tiled walls and the bottles of shower gel as his audience. (He had, however, once been judged for his honey coconut body wash. “Straight guys aren’t supposed to use this stuff,” were words that literally came out of the mouth of a girl he had just spent the last hour in bed with. Needless to say, she wasn’t invited back.)

Tonight’s song, as always, was one that had just gotten stuck in his head.

_“There’s a change in pressure; we’re never going to lie to you.”_

Harry had a pretty great voice, actually. Low and rich, he sounded good even when he had the disruption of shampoo running down his forehead and into his eyes. It was a shame that he _didn’t_ have an audience.

_“My broken veins say that if my heart stops beating, ‘we’ll bleed the same way.’”_

Hang on.

_“Oh, my broken veins say.”_

Maybe he _did_ have one.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he heard another voice harmonizing with his. He didn’t think he was singing loud enough to be heard over the run of the shower, but maybe he underestimated himself. Maybe he’d been underestimating a lot of things.

As Harry continued on to the second verse, he was certain there was singing coming from the opposite side of the wall that divided his apartment with the next. He had heard the girl next door singing before – he thought her voice was really pretty and he was guilty of smiling and singing along softly whenever he knew the song, but he had never, _ever_ heard (or, at least, _noticed_ ) her join in on one of his routine shower concerts. He didn’t know what to do, apart from keep singing.

So that’s exactly what he did. Harry sang with admittedly a little more conscious effort to get the notes right, fingers massaging his scalp as he casually washed his hair. He conditioned his curly locks, his lips tugging at a smile at the cheesy improbability that was actually going on. It felt like something that happened solely in films, not to real people who just wanted a shower so their hair looked nice and shiny for work tomorrow. It was by far the strangest story he had to tell his friends back home, and it wasn’t even over yet.

Harry waited until they’d finished their surprise duet before switching off the shower. He was met with silence on the other side of the wall; he wondered what she had been doing in her bathroom when she joined in. It was only when he considered whether or not she had been taking her own shower at the same time as him that he realised he was standing there dripping wet and half hard, and he looked around quickly as if he would find her hiding in the corner and judging him.

Harry shook his head and pulled the curtain back, wondering what the hell was wrong with him while he wrapped his towel around his shoulders. (Harry knew: he hadn’t gotten laid in weeks, and he could count at least three times in the past seven days that she had)

It stayed silent as he dried himself off. He tipped his head forward and towelled his hair, shaking out water droplets and letting it sit wild and wavy around his shoulders when he looked back up. Harry’s reflection took up a good part of the mirror; standing in the centre, he could see up from just above his hips. He had a perfect view of his tattooed torso, though the lighting in the bathroom wasn’t so forgiving when a rogue spot annoyingly popped up on his face every now and then. It was fine for sliding on some moisturizer or trimming the dark hair that trailed down from his navel or debating whether or not signing up to an overpriced gym membership was worth it when he could go for runs for free, but he skipped all that tonight. Curiosity had the better of him.

Harry padded back into his bedroom, his towel left behind on the rack, when he heard a knocking sound. He paused, unsure whether or not he’d imagined it, until he heard it again. It was only a gentle tap, coming from about the centre of the dividing wall. He’d long since figured out that was about where the girl’s bed was positioned up against.

Harry walked over to the space and knocked back. In his room, his double bed was up against the far corner and he was standing in an empty space just beside the nightstand. There was another knock, and he knocked back, and then there was a call.

“Was that weird?”

“Was what weird?” he asked, raising his voice in a guess of what would be loud enough to be heard.

“Singing. Me singing with you.”

Harry wanted to point out that it was weirder that they were having their first ever conversation through a wall, but he decided to be honest in a different way.

“I liked it.”

There was a silence, and Harry wondered whether or not he had successfully managed to make it weirder. At least he wasn’t admitting to standing there stark naked.

“I’m Taylor,” she said after a beat.

“I’m Harry.”

“You have a wonderful voice.”

“So do you.”

He was smiling, hands pressed against the cool wall with fingers spread apart, as if she could reach through and lace hers in between. What was she doing? Did she look the same?

“Are you a musician?” she asked, and Harry laughed.

“Are you?”

She skipped over that.

“Are you busy tomorrow?”

“I am, yeah.”

“Oh.”

She sounded disappointed, but he convinced himself he’d misheard. She had no reason to be.

“Well, good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Taylor.”

He briefly heard some shuffling and then it was quiet again.

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

Harry’s alarm was the unwelcomed chime of ‘Marimba’, ringing at 7:15am as always. He snoozed it twice, burying his face in his pillow, longing for more sleep. Just one snooze wasn’t proving to be enough this week.

Crawling out of bed at ten to eight, Harry left his iPhone on the table as he fell into his morning routine. He made the bathroom trip then headed for the kitchen, pouring himself some cereal and a glass of orange juice and eating at the dining table. Liam had once told him it wasn’t very considerate of anyone who wanted to sit at the table if he insisted on eating breakfast as naked as he slept, but Harry spitefully ignored him every morning in the privacy of his own flat. It wasn’t like he regularly had guests, anyway.

Stupidly, Harry started to hope that that was going to change. Endless inquisitive thoughts swirling around his brain like a Taylor Tornado had kept him lying awake longer than he wanted to admit, and the last thing he wanted was to spend all day theorizing over her, too.

Harry went back into his bedroom and tugged on a clean pair of briefs and skinny jeans. He’d just fastened his belt when there was a knock, this time at his front door. He neglected the hopeful beat of his heart as he went to answer it, not bothering with finding a shirt first.

He was certainly glad he didn’t, as he opened the door to a beautiful blonde, who, quite honestly, was the most breathtaking woman Harry had ever laid eyes on. Her painted red lips were curving up in a sweet smile, thin fingers moving up to tuck a lock of the short blonde hair that framed her perfectly featured face behind her ear. She was wearing a cream-coloured dress, fitted at the waist and flowing out flirtatiously at her thighs. In her heels, he was looking straight into those _eyes_ , those clear blue cat eyes lined with a Cleopatra flick. He couldn’t stop staring and was damn near speechless, so it was a relief when she spoke first.

“Bad timing?” she guessed. He recognised her voice instantly.

“Nah.” He smiled back as if he hadn’t just failed to form a proper word. “Do you wanna come in?”

She nodded, and Harry watched as he stepped aside to let her walk in, the skirt of her dress swaying gently as she moved on long, lean legs. She walked with confidence, feet stepping one in front of the other almost as if the world was her runway. He was convinced it was: Harry had been living next door to a goddamn supermodel for three months and he hadn’t even known it.

“I know you said you were busy, but I wanted to apologise,” Taylor said when she spun around to face him again. “Last night was really weird and I shouldn’t have done it. I’m really sorry.”

Harry shook his head, running his hand through his un-brushed hair. He noticed her eyes flicker down his toned stomach and he smiled, higher on the left side with a dimple pressing into his cheek. “’s alright. It was unexpected, but not in a bad way.”

Taylor looked unsure but she didn’t argue, only stepped closer and extended her manicured hand out. “We haven’t officially met,” she said.

“Harry Styles,” he answered, taking her hand and cheekily adding, “I don’t normally let strangers into my flat.”

She shook his hand, smiling, “Taylor Swift. You’re very British and it’s adorable.”

Harry quirked his eyebrow and her cheeks turned pink, though her eyes stayed on his. “You’re very beautiful and it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he replied charmingly, unable to help himself as they still grasped each other’s palms. “If you don’t mind, I should probably go put a shirt on.”

“You don’t have to just ‘cause of me.”

“I was thinking of work, but that’s good to know.”

Taylor’s jaw dropped slightly as Harry smirked at her, sliding his hand out of hers and gliding into his bedroom. “Holy _shit_ ,” he whispered, grinning ridiculously as he quickly searched through his closet. Last night’s imaginings hadn’t come anywhere close to this.

Harry, deciding to show off a little, picked out a sheer burgundy long-sleeved shirt, buttoning it up half way as he strolled back into the main room, trying to appear casual despite the round of _“holy shit holy shit holy shit”_ ringing around his head. Taylor was still standing there, looking gorgeously out of place in his mediocre apartment. She was glancing around and not seeming to know what to do with herself.

“What do you do?” she asked while he cleared up his breakfast dishes and gestured for her to sit down.

“Have you heard of _A.N.Y._?” He looked over his shoulder from the sink to see her perched with her legs crossed one over the other on the chair he’d been using earlier, and he bit back a grin as she shook her head. “ _After New York_ ,” he told her. “It’s a magazine. Not a very big one, but it comes out every month.”

“So you’re a writer?”

“Music journalist, if we’re being specific.”

“What time do you start today?”

“Um,” Harry looked at his bare wrist, and Taylor helpfully called “8:18” a moment later. “Fuck,” he cursed hurriedly, spinning around and darting back into his bedroom. He was picking some socks up from the floor when he heard her friendly voice again.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” he answered a little too quickly. “You’re good. You can come in here, if you want.”

Her heels tapped on the floorboards as she got up and moved to the doorway, leaning against the wall and watching him hopping to tug on yesterday’s socks.

“I like how you’ve decorated the place,” she complimented, smiling as he looked over her in surprise. “It’s interesting how everyone does something different.”

“Yeah? What’s yours like?”

“You can see for yourself, if you like,” Taylor offered, following him when he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. “Have you got any dinner plans?”

“Are you asking me to dinner, Taylor?” he asked in a teasing tone as he fixed on a necklace and a few rings. She rolled her eyes and he grinned. “No, I don’t have any plans. You don’t have to do anything for me, though. Can I spray this?”

“Sure,” she answered, and he promptly proceeded to shake his deodorant can and spray some on, easy when his shirt was loose and barely done up. “I _want_ to do something. I know you’ve been here for a while and it’s crazy that we haven’t met before. I feel guilty for not saying hi earlier.”

Harry started brushing his curls, leaning his hip against the counter as he twisted to face her. “Are you saying you’re normally a gift basket ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ kind of girl?”

“A little sarcastic, are we?” Taylor gave a tiny smirk, tilting her pretty little head to the side.

“It only gets worse from here on.”

“You’ve stopped hurrying, y’know?”

Harry set his hairbrush down and picked up his watch, sliding it on and locking it in place on his left wrist. He glanced at the time – 8:22 – and smiled confidently at her. “I can always make time for nice girls who want to make me dinner.”

Taylor laughed and watched as he started squirting a line of mint paste on his purple toothbrush. He loved the sound already.

“What do _you_ do?” he asked, needing to hear her keep talking.

“I’m at Columbia. I’ve got class at 10.” She didn’t give any more details, only waited until after he had brushed his teeth and spat the foamy residue into the sink as gracefully as he could manage. “Do you want a ride to work?”

“No thanks,” he politely declined. He started to move back towards the door but she didn’t step backwards like he anticipated, so they were left standing close together in the doorway, studying gazes locked. “Are you trying to delay me on purpose?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why are we standing in a doorway?”

Harry chuckled as Taylor, a little flushed, quickly moved out of the way. He wasn’t sure she realised it was noticeable that her eyes had slipped down to his lips when they were in close proximity.

Harry grabbed his phone and slipped on a pair of black Chelsea boots, feeling Taylor’s warming presence watching and following as he switched rooms. He tucked his laptop and charger back to into his bag before grabbing the container of leftover pasta and a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Do you have some paper?” Taylor asked, taking him by surprise. He pointed to a pad on the end of the kitchen counter, sorting everything tidily in his bag while she scribbled down a note. He heard her tear it out and tap her way over to him at the dining table. “Text me your number and we’ll sort out dinner.”

He took the note and smiled down at her neat handwriting spelling out her name and number in blue ink. “You sure you want to?”

“Definitely.”

Harry slipped the paper inside the front pocket of his bag, sliding the strap over his shoulder and smiling at her. He tried not to look as excited as he was. “Okay. I’ve gotta go, but I’ll text you when I get to work.”

“Okay.”

Taylor grinned, teeth flashing white as she trailed after him. Harry grabbed his keys and let her through the door first, sneaking one more look of her mile-long legs before locking it behind them. She lingered over by her own door, one hand hovering over the small purse she had hooked over her own shoulder. They smiled at each other, Harry wishing her a good day before starting to head for the stairs a little reluctantly.

“Harry?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Are you allergic to cats?”

“Nope,” he replied with a shake of his head. “If you have any, I’d say that’d make me more inclined to come over.”

He’d said exactly the right thing: Taylor beamed at him, “I like you already.”

That one sentence stuck in his head on loop for the rest of the day.

 

*** * * * ***

Harry didn’t participate in his usual people-watching, didn’t look out for anybody that caught his attention for one reason or another. His attention on his walk/bus ride to work was elsewhere – crafting the perfect first text.

It was lame, he hated that it was all he could think about, but there was a tiny (or not) part of him that was thrilled to have something new and intriguing occupying his thoughts.

When he arrived at the office, tucked between a florist and an accounting agency, the first thing Harry did was drop his bag on his desk and twist his wheelie chair to face Jared’s, his fellow dark-haired colleague glancing over at him with an unsuspecting smile.

“What do you text a girl you’ve never texted before and you know she has a boyfriend but you kind of wish she didn’t ‘cause you think she’s really, _really_ pretty and nice but you also don’t really wish she didn’t ‘cause you don’t really know her but she’s cooking you dinner tonight and you want to know her?”

Harry took a deep breath as Jared’s brows shot up.

“I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever heard you speak,” he said, and Harry exhaled a small laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Your words per minute just doubled, at _least._ ”

Jared manoeuvred his own wheelie chair around his desk and over to Harry’s so their conversation wasn’t so projected. Just a little early, not everyone was there yet, but Harry was glad that those who were weren’t going to be able to hear them so easily.

While he was on friendly terms with everyone he worked with, he was only really close to Jared. Jared had laughed at him when he had first set his little succulent on his desk and proceeded to accidentally tip the contents of his water bottle all over the table top. He’d given him a box of tissues, told him the plant was a nice touch but was he a hippy? A rogue nature lover trapped in a rock star’s body? They’d been friends ever since.

“Who’s the girl?” Jared asked, their knees bumping as Harry nudged over so they could both lean against the desk. Jared’s almost-black eyes were full of curiosity as he propped his chin up on his hand.

“Um, the girl next door,” he replied shyly, glancing at the pocket of his bag that her note was safely tucked in. “I met her this morning. Or, last night, I guess. Her name’s Taylor.”

“She’ll love that.”

“What?”

Jared grinned, teasing, “Tay- _lah_.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s not helping me _right now_.”

“But it’s _going_ to help you. You said you’re having dinner, right? _Good evening, Tay-lah. What a wonderful night for us to be having tea together_ ,” Jared sang in his best imitation of Harry’s voice, emphatically slow and accented. Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“She gave me her number and told me to text her so she’ll have mine but I don’t know what to write.”

Harry wasn’t _normally_ a texting over-thinker, but he also wasn’t normally singing duets through his wall and making spontaneous dinner plans. He hadn’t done the latter with a girl in a long time.

Jared tapped his fingers against his freshly shaved chin. “What was the first thing you thought of?”

“A joke,” Harry admitted, well aware that it probably wouldn’t be _that_ funny but at least wouldn’t be an awkward ‘hi’. Jared, surprisingly, didn’t shoot him down.

“Do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let her know what she’s getting herself into. Not everyone’s up for shitty jokes and you should give her a chance to back out if she wants to.”

Harry pushed Jared’s chair away from him and twisted to face his desk in offence, though he was smiling widely. “I changed my mind, I don’t want your advice.”

“You haven’t even told me what she looks like yet. Or if she _is_ a porn star.”

“Fuck off,” Harry laughed, pulling his laptop out of his bag as Jared wheeled away. He knew he’d spill more later, but for now he needed to pretend like he was doing something productive.

With yesterday’s document open in the background, Harry turned to Google for perhaps the lamest search ever:

_‘good puns’_

He wound up spending ten minutes scrolling through dorky websites full of bad jokes, giggling to himself and taking mental notes of ones he especially liked. For all his longing to go back home, right now Harry was glad he wasn’t – he would never live this down if one of the lads caught him. His enthusiasm for his jokes was adorable if not awfully misplaced; the last thing he needed was online sources handing out more tragic material.

When Harry narrowed it down to one, he pulled out the note Taylor had handed him and saved her contact, starting to type a new message.

**Text: to _Taylor_**  
**> >** _What do you call a pile of kittens? – H_

He left his phone screen facing up near the edge of the desk, close enough for him to see if it lit up yet far enough away that he wouldn’t sit there incessantly watching until it did. He took out his bottle and poured some water onto his plant routinely, taking a sip himself before getting to work.

Harry successfully managed to read three paragraphs of his latest article before his phone buzzed and he snatched it up quickly.

**Text: from _Taylor_**  
**> >** _What IS a pile of kittens called, Harry?_

He grinned as he typed back.

**Text: to _Taylor_**

**> >** _A meowntain._

He set his phone down closer this time, tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk as he stared at the screen of his laptop without taking anything in. Again, he didn’t have to wait long.

**Text: from _Taylor_  
>> ** _OH MY GOD THAT JUST MADE MY DAY!!!_

**Text: to _Taylor  
_ >>** _I hoped it might_

**Text: from _Taylor_  
>>** _I don’t think you understand – I literally laughed out loud and my cat looked at me like I was crazy_  
**> >** _I wish I had a meowntain_

**Text: to _Taylor_  
>>** _Me too_  
**> >** _Would you like to hear another?_

**Text: from _Taylor  
_ >>** _PLEASE_

They spent the whole of Harry’s shift texting back and forth. They traded jokes and random observations, like that when Taylor arrived on campus for the day she saw someone wearing their shirt inside out _and_ back-to-front even though it wasn’t quite exam-stress no-sleep time. He giggled and could barely stop smiling. It felt more comfortable than it ever had texting someone he hardly knew; Harry couldn’t remember being this thankful for the lack of rules regarding using mobile phones at work. Sure, he didn’t get a whole lot done, but he had plenty of time before his deadline. He could slack for a day with good reason without there being dire consequences.

Jared teased him about it over lunch, and he confronted him again when he was packing up his stuff.

“Excited?”

“Would you like me to start jumping up and down?”

“Don’t forget the squealing.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head so his loose curls swayed against his cheeks. “I think I should bring something but I’m undecided on what.”

“We’re right beside a florist, Styles – the decision’s been made,” Jared pointed out with a gesture of his hand.

Harry chewed his bottom lip. “You don’t think that’s too…”

“Cliché?” he finished for him. “Fuck yeah. But if you want to make a good impression, I don’t see why you shouldn’t. Wine would work, too.”

“I don’t know what we’re having, though,” Harry said. “Don’t want to get something that doesn’t go.”

“Does that really matter? If it doesn’t go, you can use it as an excuse to have dinner with her again.”

Huh. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, sliding on his bag and sighing. “D’you wanna come pick something out with me, then? You seem to know what you’re talking about.”

Jared put his hand on Harry’s shoulder as they started walking out. He was an inch taller than Harry and only two years older, yet he spoke as if the difference was greater.

“My young, curly-headed, never-heard-of-doing-up-every-shirt-button friend, you have so much to learn.”

Jared kept talking as they took the stairs down to the ground floor. _A.N.Y._ was on the fourth floor of an office building, with the level above unoccupied and the two below filled by other small businesses. The ground floor held a laundrette and a staircase that led upwards. Jared offered what he liked to call “wise dating advice” as they made their descent, though Harry had never actually known him to go on a date, let alone have a relationship. The buzz of his phone in his back pocket reminded him that this wasn’t _actually_ a date, so really, the advice was irrelevant. Taylor had a boyfriend.

Harry ignored Jared’s comments as he texted her back with a rather impressive success at continuing down the stairs. (“Oh look at _you_ , thinking you already know all this. I see you smiling, Styles. I see you!”) They tapped past the row of washing machines on the ground floor, the lone attendant not bothering to look up from his newspaper, and they turned into the neighbouring florist. Every morning he appreciated the colourful arrangements that gave a lift to his mood, never daring to actually venture inside, and now he was appreciating the pure convenience of having the shop so accessible.

The sweet-scented air hit Harry at full force as they stepped through the doors. He tried not to let the surprising pang of homesickness show on his face as they started moving through the flower arrangements.

“You need something simple,” Jared told him as they passed some roses in clear plastic bunches. “Not too showy. Just something small she can put on her dining table; something friendly.”

The rows of bright petals arranged to aesthetic perfection, emitting subtle aromas that swirled around Harry’s head, were already starting to mess with him. He loved the smell, he loved the freshness of the air that reminded him of running around outside on a sunny spring day, but the familiarity was so close to home that he was afraid he might do something weird and irrational like burst into tears in the middle of the store, standing next to a man who had lived his whole life in New York and wouldn’t have a clue what was wrong with him. That wasn’t an option.

“Maybe wine would be easier?” Harry suggested as Jared started eyeing a bouquet of water lilies. He wanted to get out of there.

“We’re going with flowers,” Jared announced definitely, flipping over the tag attached to the pink pot the bunch was sitting in. “What’s your price range?”

“Um, I don’t know,” he mumbled, glancing further along the low-standing display. From the occasional bailing out on group outings, Jared was aware Harry’s bank account was hardly overflowing. When he did manage to save up a decent amount to use freely, he wasn’t always the most practical spender. (See: un-worn sparkly silver ankle boots tucked away in their box at the bottom of his closet)

“That’s why flowers are less pressure,” Jared explained. “What do you think of these?”

Harry shrugged his broad shoulders a little. “I like the one with the sunflowers,” he admitted, tipping his head over towards a set of yellow pots when Jared looked back up.

“You cheesy fuck,” he laughed, walking over and inspecting the arrangement Harry had set his sweet little heart on. “Getting these, then?”

Harry moved to stand beside him, twisting the toe of his boot on the tiled floor. “Do you think she’ll like them?” he asked, quiet and hesitant. He was yet to realise why his brain had made the connection with the cheery flower and the girl he was giving them to.

Jared ruffled the top of Harry’s hair, smiling, “Just buy them, idiot.”

Picking the brightest bunch of sunflowers and purple alstroemerias, Harry totted over to the counter and swiped his card, gladly accepting the ride home from Jared so he didn’t have any bumping-into-other-pedestrians bouquet-crushing drama.

It was just past five thirty by the time he got home; he was thankful for the deserted staircase keeping up with its regular pattern. Harry found an empty jar in the cupboard and filled it with water to keep the flowers fresh, leaving it sitting right in front of him on the coffee table. It was too early to go next door. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

Aimlessly browsing the internet wasted an hour. Harry started telling Liam what was going on, to which he responded with lots of genuine smiley faces and exclamation marks. Liam had always had that real enthusiasm when you were telling a story you were excited about – Harry was glad the green dot had been next to his name when he opened up Facebook. He wasn’t so proud of his attempt to find Taylor’s profile (she had everything set to private so he couldn’t see much), but whatever. He didn’t have to admit that to anyone.

Taylor had left him earlier with a “be right back, tomatoes are calling” text and hadn’t replied since. Her version of “right back” was longer than he had been expecting, but he wasn’t about to look too clingy by messaging her again, as much as he wanted to know what was going on next door. He trusted that he hadn’t been forgotten.

So Harry concentrated on his conversation with Liam, and his one with Niall when he popped online, laying on the couch with headphones in and The 1975’s first album on. He kept his phone on the edge of the coffee table, right in his line of vision.

His laptop almost crashed onto the floor when he sat up abruptly as soon as his phone lit up.

**Text: from** _Taylor_  
>> _Come over???_

Harry embarrassingly rushed to log off his laptop and duck into the bathroom to give himself a once-over in the mirror. He ruffled his hair and straightened his shirt; he needn’t change much. In his bedroom he dabbed on some cologne from the top of his bookshelf – Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, a luxurious indulgence he found oh so worth it whenever he (sparingly) picked up the $225 bottle. His taste often overshot his budget like that.

His anticipation had swiftly switched to nerves, and as he tugged his boots back on Harry debated leaving the flowers behind. They were too much. But he really should bring something. But why did he pick _flowers?_

Harry grabbed his keys and the sunflowers, managing to splash water all over the nearly empty table and down the leg of his jeans. He cursed himself, quickly drying the mess with a tea towel and relying on the black denim to disguise the drops he’d spilled on himself. He took a deep breath before leaving his apartment. It was stupid. He shouldn’t be nervous. Why the fuck was he nervous?

The thing Harry realised as he knocked on Taylor’s door was this: if for some reason they didn’t get on (he didn’t think that was likely, not after all their texts), it was going to be awfully awkward living just next door to each other. There was no true hiding with their thin walls and easy accessibility.

“Hi– oh my gosh!”

The bright, surprised smile of the girl who opened the door was exactly what he’d been waiting all day to see. His doubts evaporated immediately.

“Come in here, you,” Taylor grinned, laughter in her voice as she held the door open wider and extended her hand out to him. Harry accepted it gladly. “You really didn’t have to.”

“You really didn’t have to make me dinner,” he countered as he stepped into her apartment. The light was warmer, more like home than his own felt.

“But I wanted to,” she said.

“Exactly.”

The pair smiled at each other, gazes locked until she realised their hands were still clasped and she quickly let go.

“Um, well, welcome!” Taylor said cheerily, brushing it off as she started sauntering towards the kitchen. “Conveniently, you already know your way around, so make yourself at home.”

As Taylor searched for something to put the flowers in, Harry took in the main room. The similarities lay with the two windows straight across from him situated in the same spots as his and the kitchen set up to his immediate right (it was left in his). She’d decorated the rest completely differently.

Instead of walking straight into the kitchen/dining area, Harry was standing in the lounge, consisting of a plush couch and a flat screen TV sitting upon a dark wood unit, cupboards hiding away stacks of DVD’s he would discover later. There were matching end tables on either side of the couch, both with thin lamps and one with a small tissue box. A shaggy rug carpeted the floor under the coffee table, which was stacked with books, a laptop and an empty coffee cup. Taylor must like reading, he realised, since she had a wide bookshelf completely filled and a chair the same shade of deep red as the couch tucked in the far corner. Her dining table stood by the right window and seated six, two more than Harry’s. It looked far nicer and was already set up for their meal, with place mats and wine glasses on coasters arranged across from each other.

The walls really got his attention. Taylor had apparently ignored the ‘No hanging anything up’ rule, since she had at least two framed photographs or paintings on each. He was sure he didn’t have that many hooks in his room. He immediately wanted to investigate, to see what memories she’d selected to put on display.

“Harry.”

He snapped out of his curious daze at the sound of her voice, and he drifted over to her when he saw she had a crystal vase in her hands. Harry carefully placed the flowers inside, smiling at her as he breathed in the warm cooking smells swirling around the kitchen.

“What’s with the pictures?”

Taylor frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I distinctly remember a ‘ _Do not tape or hammer anything onto the walls_ ’ clause of the contract I signed,” he said, raising three fingers as he counted in his head. “I have three hooks in my version of this room. You have a lot more than that.”

Taylor studied him for a moment before starting to laugh. “Seriously? _That’s_ the first thing you ask about?”

Harry watched as she walked over to put the vase in the centre of the dining table. Like him, she was still wearing the same outfit from the morning, heels and all. His eyes lingered on her lean thighs peeking out from under the swaying skirt of her dress.

“The perks of buddying up to the landlord include requesting to put up a few more hooks here and there,” she explained, smiling when she turned back around to face him. “Have you met him before?”

Harry nodded. “Once, yeah. When I signed the contract.”

“His one condition was that he had to be here when I was putting the hooks up – temporary hooks, I might add – _as if I would do it wrong_ ,” Taylor rolled her eyes. “He’s number two on my list of most perverted in this building. Number one belongs to him.”

She pointed at the wall dividing the next apartment along as his eyes widened. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“What’d he do?” he asked, instantly interested.

“The first time I met him I was wearing a tank top and the entire time he was just _staring_ at my chest and I was like, _excuse me?!_ Every single time I see him, he won’t stop staring at me and I don’t know if it’s just ‘cause he’s creepy or because he’s high all the time. Have you ever noticed it smells weird when you walk past his door? That’s why.”

With a mental note to always keep his eyes up, Harry smiled at her. “I’m very sorry to hear about that.”

“When you say that, you should actually look sorry,” Taylor teased with a tiny smirk, moving back to the kitchen and opening up a cupboard. “You like red wine, right?”

“Red’s lovely.”

“ _Lovely_ ,” she copied, quieter with a smile in her voice. “Pour us some, please?”

Taylor handed him a bottle, fancier than whatever he would’ve bought, though Harry stopped in his tracks when he was almost at the table, distracted by a white ball of fur now sitting on top.

“Um…”

“Oh my god, Olivia, no,” Taylor groaned, one hand on her hip and the other now on a silver drawer handle. “Can you pick her up, please? She’s friendly, I promise.”

Placing the wine bottle further down the table, Harry carefully reached for the small cat who was staring up at the vase, gently lifting her up and cradling her in his arms.

“Hi, little Olivia,” Harry said softly, scratching the fur on her tummy. He giggled when the cat meowed up at him.

“Watch out,” Taylor warned as she tapped over to them, “she won’t leave you alone if you cuddle her.”

Harry’s gaze shifted to Taylor’s face when she stood beside him, and the words fell out of his mouth before he could think them through: “She get that from you?”

With her cheeks turning pink, Taylor kept her stare still on her cat lying contentedly in his arms. “Where’s your sister, hey?” she asked, dismissing his question entirely. She still hadn’t mentioned her handsome (he assumed he must be) beau who kept her up at night.

While Taylor disappeared off into her bedroom, Harry played with Olivia, smiling and shaking her little paw. He’d always liked cats; they had gotten one when they were younger, most of the photos on his mum’s Facebook page still starring the black and white beauty. His sister had adopted a similar kitten last year, too.

There was a flash of fur out of the corner of his vision, and he looked up to see Taylor chasing a bigger cat over by the bookcase.

“Come and say _hi_ ,” she instructed encouragingly, but the cat didn’t seem to care. It hid in the gap between the chair and the tall standing lamp in the corner. Harry had a feeling it was a favourite escaping spot.

Some hissing and wriggling around later, Taylor had a very unimpressed, distressed looking cat in her hands. She smiled, despite the animal’s desperate leg-kicking attempt to free itself from her grasp.

“This is Meredith. She hates everyone,” she said by means of obvious introduction. Harry was already much fonder of the cat in his arms; the wide-eyed stare of horror wasn’t nearly as appealing as the nuzzling against his chest.

Meredith darted out of the room as soon as Taylor put her down, and Harry laughed, “I think I’ll stick with Olivia.”

“Me too,” she grinned.

Harry had his fun cuddling the kinder cat, stroking her little folded ears curiously while Taylor finished up in the kitchen. She pulled a rectangular pan out of the oven, cutting two generous slices from the layered pasta inside and carefully shifting them onto white china plates. He watched eagerly and she carried them over, stomach grumbling at the sight and passing smell of freshly cooked lasagne.

“That looks amazing,” Harry immediately complimented, quickly putting Olivia down and going to wash his hands. He was followed by the feline, who clawed at his leg for more attention when he sat down. He poured their glasses after detaching her from his jeans, beaming a dimpled smile when Taylor slid into the chair opposite him. “Smells even better.”

Taylor smiled back at him, twisting a strand of her hair around her finger. “Give it a try.”

The instruction was unnecessary when he was eyeing the dish so eagerly. Harry gave zero fucks that he’d had pasta last night and today for lunch – this looked like it had stepped right off the page of a cookbook. He picked up his cutlery with heightened anticipation, cutting himself a square a little too big to be eaten gracefully. He shoved it in his mouth in one go and good god, this wasn’t lasagne, this was fucking star bursting, tastebud tantalizing, crafted by an angel herself fucking _lasagne_. It wasn’t real. No way he was actually eating this; it had to be a dream.

“Well?”

Harry swallowed in total delight and he opened his eyes to see Angel Taylor smiling expectantly. Wings. She needed fucking wings and a shiny halo to match.

“I think I’m in love.”

Taylor laughed loudly at his not at all overdramatic confession – god, that _sound_ – and she picked up her own knife and fork to taste for herself. Her reaction wasn’t nearly as awestruck as his, but if she was used to eating food made of angel dust every day, he wasn’t surprised.

“It turned out pretty good, I suppose,” she said once she swallowed her mouthful, looking down to cut another piece so she missed Harry’s jaw dropping. “I was a little worried – I had it keeping warm in the oven while I waited for you. I actually made some cookie dough, too – it’s in the fridge now ‘cause I realised if I put them in the oven now the lasagne smell might bake into them and we wouldn’t want that. You like cinnamon, right?”

Taylor met his eyes as she started chewing again, and Harry’s mouth had apparently lost connection with his common sense as he blurted out, “I think I might have to marry you.”

He wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing – saying that, or Taylor choking on her square of pasta when they burst out laughing.

“Oh god,” Taylor grinned, taking a careful sip of wine when she managed to compose herself. “I’m keeping you. You’re too precious not to have around.”

Harry loved the sound of that, beaming as he dug into another slice. What he didn’t so much like the sound of was the inevitable: “I don’t think my boyfriend would like us getting _married_ , though.”

“I think Olivia might,” he guessed as insistent paws dug into his shin again. He lent down to sit her down and pat her furry head. She nuzzled his hand appreciatively.

“She loves new people,” Taylor smiled. “She’s the opposite of Mere.”

“Where’d you get the names from? My sister has a little black and white cat she named Olivia after the character from _Scandal_.”

Taylor’s smile turned guilty as she looked at his attentive face. “Doctor Meredith Grey and Detective Olivia Benson,” she admitted, covering her face with her hand as she laughed at herself. “I’ve watched every episode of _Grey’s Anatomy_ and _Law & Order_. They’re my favourite characters, I couldn’t help myself.”

Harry bit back his own laughter, and he was sure she could tell. “I think _you’re_ too precious not to have around,” he decided, and she shrugged a little, still smiling.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m cool when I’m really obviously not.”

“Bet you were popular in high school,” he guessed, waving his fork in her direction. “And now in uni, too.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Seriously?”

Taylor nodded. “I hardly had any friends. Everyone thought I was weird so, you know, I didn’t have much of a social life. It’s not so bad now that people are kind of out of the whole sticking to cliques thing, but yeah, I was never popular.”

“You don’t seem that weird to me.”

“That’s because you don’t know a whole lot about me. Trust me, I am.”

“I’m hardly a shining light of normality.”

“That sounds like a line from a book, not something that just came out of a twenty-something year old man,” Taylor teased, her neat eyebrows arched. Harry rolled his eyes and ate another slice of lasagne.

“I’m twenty-two.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Um, yes way.”

“How did you get a writing job so quickly?! I know people who finished their journalism degree _years_ ago and are _still_ assistants. They’d _kill_ you.”

Harry just shrugged. “Dunno,” he said honestly. “I did an internship when I was in my last year of uni and I got a paying job assisting the editor in chief just before I graduated. I stayed there for, like, six months before I came here.”

Taylor was smiling at him, eyes sparkling in interest. “That’s incredible. Where are you actually from? You’re English, obviously, but from where?”

“Do you know where Cheshire is?” he asked, the shake of her head exactly what he expected. “It’s like – say this is London,” Harry started to explain using his cutlery, planting the bottom of his fork on the table top and putting his knife further up, “it’s north of that. I grew up in a little town there; moved to London to get my degree.”

“I really like your accent,” she complimented.

“I like yours too, Taylor.”

Harry silently thanked Jared when Taylor’s smile brightened at the sound of her name coming out of his mouth.

“So did you always know you wanted to be a journalist?”

He shook his head, nose wrinkling slightly. “Nope. Never thought I’d be doing this.”

“You _never_ thought you’d be a journalist? There are people who have wanted to do that their _whole lives_ and yet _you’re_ the one with the job? How on earth did you end up here?!”

That was a question Harry had asked himself over and over. He wasn’t shy of the irony of it – people tried _so_ hard to get where he was right now, and yet he had never had that gripping passion for the job. But Harry had a lot of words he wanted to share with the world, and _A.N.Y._ had proved to be a pretty good means to share them.

Between mouthfuls of dinner, Harry explained the desperate change he’d made during the first few weeks of uni. He told her about each of his mates and where they were now, and about how they regularly stayed in contact despite the distance. He started telling her about his family, sharing a bit about his mum and his sister and the house they grew up in. Looping back to work, Harry told her about the gardening magazine he’d first interned at and how the whole office was light and always smelled of fresh flowers. The tremendous recommendation letter from the editor (the paper also smelling sweet) had been his golden ticket to the position he had now.

“But what about being a musician?” Taylor, the very intent listener, wanted to know once he told her how one of the guys from his class who had also made the trip here had overheard the other new assistant at _Women’s Wear Daily_ had left a music spot at _A.N.Y._ – quite the jump. Harry could never thank him enough for being his first thought to fill the job.

“I don’t even know how to properly play an instrument,” he contended.

She rolled her eyes. “This is the twenty first century, Harry, you can Google a tutorial. I have an old guitar you could even borrow, if you really wanted to.”

“You play?”

“It’s more of a decoration in my bedroom back home, but I was pretty good as a teenager. I thought I might be a singer one day, if I didn’t get so into writing.”

“You’ve got such a lovely voice,” Harry smiled. “You could’ve been a star. Still could be.”

“And so could you!” Taylor said with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. “You’re young, you’re nice, you’re good looking, and your voice is unbelievable. That’s the perfect recipe for a successful pop star.”

Harry’s brain stuck on _“you’re good looking”_ yet the question he asked was a simple one he’d been wondering about: “How old are you?”

Taylor bit her lip lightly, sticking her fork into her food distractedly. “Quite a bit older than you, actually.”

“How much?”

She mumbled, “Twenty-seven in December.”

Harry almost spat out his wine.

“You’re joking,” he said, and she shook her head. “You look, like, twenty-three, twenty-four, maybe. Wow.”

There was a short pause between them.

“You don’t care, do you?”

“Why would I care?”

“I don’t know; some people don’t like differences.”

Harry smiled at her reassuringly. “I really don’t care how old you are. You could be a little old lady with grey hair and knitting needles tucked behind your ears like pens and I’d still be having a nice time.”

“I’m really glad to hear that,” she thanked him, her own lips tugging at a smile.

“So what _is_ it you do, anyway? When did you start uni?”

_“Well,”_ Taylor sighed dramatically before launching off into her story. He learnt she was born in Pennsylvania and had always wanted to travel, so her acceptance into Columbia was a dream come true. She, like him, had been terrified of the move at first, but she had quickly transformed into a city girl. She studied creative writing, living in a dorm full of people who didn’t really _get_ her imaginative nature. She worked in a café as a barista where she met her best friend Karlie, until she landed a job at a bookstore and never looked back. After spending a year after graduation not feeling challenged enough, Taylor had re-enrolled to get a second degree in teaching. (Harry didn’t voice his thought of how much he would’ve liked having such a gorgeous English teacher back in school)

Their dinner lasted miles longer than any Harry had had in months since neither of them could stop talking. Long after the lasagne was gone (Harry had politely asked for seconds) they were still sitting at the dining table with their topped-up glasses of wine, asking questions and sharing stories. Harry could hardly believe she had been living in this less-than-stellar apartment for so long (two years!) and Taylor was astounded by his lack of visits to Central Park.

“I’m taking you there one day. You have to see the zoo,” she had declared, to which he’d grinned excitedly.

Olivia had fallen asleep curled up on top of his boots at some point in the conversation, which he didn’t think would be particularly comfortable but he didn’t want to disturb her all the same. Meredith didn’t make another appearance, though Taylor disappeared to investigate a suspicious noise in the bathroom which turned out to be her tipping over the bin.

“Tissues everywhere,” she had thrown up her hands when she walked back in the room. “She always gets the trash with her tail. I suppose I should just be thankful she actually makes the trip in there to use the litter box instead of going wherever her little head desires.”

“So, you wanna bake cookies with me tomorrow?” Taylor asked now, her chin propped up on her hand.

“’m working again tomorrow, love,” Harry smiled lazily, “but I’m free after. I’d love to bake cookies with you.”

“What time do you get back? I have some plans later.”

Harry tried not to be disappointed at that. “Um, around five thirty? ‘s that alright?”

“Five thirty’s perfect,” she nodded. “It’s been really nice getting to know you. It’s weird living so close to someone and not even knowing their name.”

“I’ve never even seen you in the halls.”

“I’ve heard you singing for ages.”

They smiled across at each other; they couldn’t stop smiling the whole night.

“I should probably get going,” Harry told her, when really he wanted the opposite. He wanted those crystal blue eyes shining at him for the rest of his whole goddamn life. “No singing for me tonight.”

Taylor pouted at him, though that turned into a giggle only a moment later. She escorted him to the door, with the awoken Olivia following along behind, wondering where her new friend was going.

“Thank you so much for this,” Harry said genuinely, standing in the open doorway facing the blonde. They were close. “That was the best lasagne I’ve ever had in my life.”

“You’re just saying that so I’ll invite you over again,” Taylor laughed, her head tilting and her hand resting gently on his bicep. Harry tried not to noticeably react, though his skin heated under the thin fabric of his shirt. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Will you always feed me?” he asked cheekily, dimples popping when she squeezed his arm.

“Maybe,” she grinned. “I like the birds, by the way.”

The heat transferred to his chest when Taylor lightly pressed one finger to the low gap his lack of done-up buttons revealed. Harry knew she meant it. Her drifting gaze ever since he had opened his door to her while shirtless was all he needed to know she was fascinated by his odd collection of ink he had accumulated over the past few years.

“What’s the story? Or _stories_ , really?”

Harry took her by the wrist and moved her hand down to hang between them – safer.

“Stories for another day,” he promised, smiling. “Good night, love.”

Taylor’s hug surprised him, though his arms slid around her small waist without him having to think. It was probably just all the wine, but her face turned into his curls and they stayed like that for a beat longer than the standard hug, bodies pressing warm against each other. Harry wanted to take her back to his room just to hold onto that comforting feeling for a while longer.

But with a “Good night, Harry,” he knew that wasn’t a possibility.

He took a step backwards and there was a quiet meow from the floor. The pair grinned at each other as Olivia tried to follow him the few steps down to his own door. Taylor scooped her up and waved her little white paw in his direction.

Oh, how wrong Harry had been about the girl next door.

**  
* * * * ***

Harry dreamt of soft blonde curls and a bedroom that smelled like vanilla.

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

When Harry arrived at work the next day, a little early as always, he was immediately descended on by two nosy colleagues.

“How was it?”

“No tell-tale signs of any after dinner activities.”

“Are you sure he’s not hiding it?”

Jourdan was poking him in the side of his neck before he’d even managed to put his bag down on his desk. Harry slapped her hand away from the unmarked skin on full display thanks to the elastic holding his hair up in a bun. He dropped into his chair with a smile he couldn’t hold back.

“She has a boyfriend, remember?”

Jared and Jourdan exchanged knowing glances. “Details,” they demanded together.

It was weird – Harry had messaged Liam with an update after he’d settled back into his own apartment, as well as one to Louis before dropping a cheeky _“currently winning the ‘who has the best neighbour?’ competition with my fucking master chef of a model next door”_ into the group chat, but he hadn’t had a proper recount of the night yet. He hadn’t grinned ridiculously about the new friend he had made until now, in front of two people who, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t know all that much about him. Harry didn’t even question how Jourdan knew about the dinner – Jared wasn’t the best at keeping his mouth shut sometimes. Besides, it was never normally Harry bringing this kind of news into work. The most he shared about his apartment life was complaints about how inappropriately loud it got some nights.

“Typical males,” Jourdan rolled her eyes when Jared asked for the millionth time what Taylor looked like and Harry gave in and opened up her Facebook page on his laptop. He hadn’t had the guts to request her yet, but they could still see the cute picture of Taylor holding Olivia she’d set as her profile picture. Jared seemed impressed.

“Excuse you,” Jared scoffed, pointing at the screen. “Look at those _lips_. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t kiss those.”

Jourdan ignored him, glancing back at Harry. “How tall is she?”

“I don’t know, maybe an inch or two shorter than me,” he guessed. “She was wearing heels so it was kinda hard to tell.”

_“Typical,”_ she repeated in annoyance. “All men are suckers for blue-eyed blondes. Even more so if they’re tall and have nice tits.”

Okay, so she _might’ve_ had a point, but Harry didn’t think that made any difference to her. Not to sound even more typical, but the first thing Harry noticed when he met Jourdan was her ass. She was leaning over her desk and he couldn’t _not_ stare when her jeans were so tight and flattering. If anyone expected food enthusiasts to have wider waists and chubbier tummies, you could just throw Jourdan’s athletic body at them as the perfect counter argument. She was fucking _fit_ , with her healthy hips and well-endowed chest, golden brown hair tumbling down her back and flawless cocoa skin to top it off. He had once pointed out the coincidence of her sharing the same name as Jourdan Dunn and she had looked at him like he was insane. It bewildered Harry to think she was ruling herself out of the typically attractive category when he had dropped his jaw and imagined throwing the ‘no dating co-workers’ rule out the window and fucking her over that desk of hers on his very first day.

This wasn’t registering in Jared’s head, apparently, as he argued, “You can’t even _see_ her tits in this photo.”

They both looked at Harry for answers, and he shrugged a little. “They’re pretty nice.”

Jourdan groaned and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “ _Please,_ tell me a flaw that this girl has. And don’t say that she has a boyfriend.”

Jared shoved her shoulder and she slapped him back, arching her eyebrows expectantly at Harry.

“S’pose she’s not very considerate about keeping the noise down. Like, with the walls and everything,” he said.

“You wouldn’t complain about that if it were _you_ she was getting loud with,” Jourdan acknowledged; he knew she was trying not to roll her eyes again. “What else?”

“I had _one_ dinner with her, I don’t know everything about her,” Harry protested. He was starting to wish he’d shut down the conversation early and kept to himself. Keeping to himself had worked damn well for him for a while now.

“When are you seeing her again?” Jared asked eagerly, as if he were the one excited to spend time with her again.

Harry pulled his phone out his pocket and started typing out a text as he casually replied, “Today.”

_“Dude.”_ Jared clapped him on the arm like they were a couple of high school footballers bragging about the hot cheerleaders they’d nailed. “Hook in there.”

“Are you kidding? Harry would never,” Jourdan quickly jumped in to disagree – praise her. “Don’t put stupid ideas in our sweet flower child’s head.”

Harry smiled at her appreciatively and got a waft of her musky perfume as she stroked his hair like he actually was a child. He was still the newbie in the office and he was the youngest, so he sort of was their little one to look out for.

“He may be a typical man, but he’s good – he won’t do anything if she’s taken,” Jourdan continued. “And if she’s so _flawless_ , she won’t either.”

It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes, and she smiled at him as she pushed herself up from where she’d perched on the edge of the desk. His phone lit up in his hand but he didn’t dare look with these two looming over him.

“Have fun, daisy,” Jourdan wished before swishing her way across the room to her own desk. He liked the lace pattern on the back of her navy blue top.

Jared still stood in front of him, looking keen to hear more. If the sound of Liza’s bangles hadn’t entered the room, he probably would’ve kept asking questions. (Probably still appearance-related)

With Liza skirting around saying her morning around of hello’s, they all descended into what looked like work. Harry pulled out his laptop and opened his Spotify, trying to look serious as he scrolled through the long list of songs. He loved that he could get away with that.

Once the every-jingling boss disappeared back into her office, Harry slipped his phone out from between his thighs (nice hiding place) and opened the message he’d received.

**Text: from _Taylor_  
>>** _This cookie dough is definitely ready to be man-handled this afternoon. It’s almost like it’s calling out from the fridge saying, “Skip commitments – come bake me now!”_

He smiled, finding his headphones and untangling them before plugging them into his computer. He hit play on ‘Life Is a Highway’ and started texting her back and forth.

**Text: to _Taylor  
_ >>** _What have you got on today?_

**Text: from _Taylor_  
>>** _A couple of lectures. I shouldn’t really talk – Shakespeare’s looking down at me and shaking his head in shame._

**Text: to _Taylor_  
>>** _“Thou shalt not text in my lecture!”_

**Text: from _Taylor  
_ >>** _Is Shakespeare writing the 11 th Commandment?_  
**> >** _Seriously though I gotta go, talk later Harry :)_

Despite the pang of disappointment in his chest, Harry knew it was for the best. They had spent hours yesterday texting – they didn’t really need another straight after. They’d be seeing each other later, after all. For now, he too had work to focus on.

Over the past two weeks, the group had been working on the overriding theme of ‘drive’. Every month they had a new word, so everyone’s sections flowed together smoothly. It avoided mismatched spreads between categories while still giving the writers a chance to be creative and put forward their own ideas and interpretations. Harry had wondered if Liza would ever run out of workable words, but with the suggestion box in the break room and her imagination, not once had they ever repeated a theme over the four years _A.N.Y._ had been running, and it didn’t look like they were about to anytime soon.

‘Drive’ was an easy one for Harry. Every issue he had a section on one of his allocated few pages featuring a monthly playlist – picking ten songs you could listen to on a road trip wasn’t a great struggle. He always started a draft list at the beginning of the project to get a grasp on what he was doing, narrowing it down to a select few at the very end.

While he’d taken over someone else’s position and had set criteria of what the music section composed of, Harry had made it into his own. In collaboration with Eric and his editor Connor, Harry had gotten the layout tweaked so it worked better with his style. He had his short introduction at the start, with pages of interviews, album and gig reviews, upcoming shows, and the playlist. He hadn’t anticipated the amount he was actually responsible for, considering he spent a lot of his time at his last job making tea, but for the most part he enjoyed writing about something he was interested in. The free access to shows wasn’t anything to complain about, either.

After spending a couple of hours researching and organizing an interview with a local artist who had sent in his EP a few weeks ago, Harry took his lunch break with Mallory, the fashion writer. They bought overpriced sandwiches from a hipster café down the road and ate a table outside; they liked sitting out there since the weather warmed up, with March in full swing sprinkling the air with spring sweetness. It was wonderful.  

If you didn’t feel like talking about yourself, having lunch with Mallory was the way to go. Once she got going, it was hard to get her to shut up. She told him all about how excited she was for the new Tommy Hilfiger collection to arrive in the city store. Harry had no idea how she could afford all the brands she squealed about; she worked with lesser known labels for her section in _A.N.Y_. It was obvious _Vogue_ was going to be her home one day.

The peroxide blonde had taken a shine to Harry as soon as she laid eyes on him. The first thing she had said to him was: “You look like you should be _in_ a magazine, not working for one.” It had become Mallory’s mission to get him into some designer clothes, which _he_ wasn’t opposed to – it was his bank account who shed a tear whenever Mallory invited him out on Saturday’s. He had trouble saying no to her cute pout and insistent “but it suits you so _well_ ”s.

There was also the mistaken drunken kiss, but that was a secret they kept locked away in the back of the taxi they’d taken home after one night out last month.

The rest of the day was spent confirming passes for him and their photographer/photo editor/photo researcher Camryn for a gig the next night. Harry had listened to the band on YouTube and figured they would make for a decent Saturday night. He had another one lined up at a different bar the next Wednesday in case he wound up wanting to write about them more.

He hadn’t heard from Taylor again, but he sent her a text before he left the office to let her know he was on his way out.

The journey took him about half an hour on a good day. When he’d been looking for somewhere to stay, Harry made sure it was close enough to comfortably travel to and from work every day. He didn’t mind the light exercise combined with a bus trip – it was when it was raining that he regretted his decision not to bother with getting a car here. Constantly bumping umbrellas with other pedestrians squeezed onto the same path made for a frustrating journey.

Taylor had replied when he was about half way home, saying she’d gotten caught up in the library and would be back soon. Harry had smiled to himself as he kept walking.

With Jourdan always being a reliable source of baked goods, Harry barely remembered the last time he had made something himself. It was probably some cupcakes he’d made not long after he moved in – far too long ago.

So even if it wasn’t quite the same with the dough already made, Harry enjoyed putting little balls of it on a tray with Taylor at his side once they were both back from their days.

“Have you ever had cinnamon ones before?” Taylor asked as they started covering the baking paper in neat rows of cookie dough. She had her hair tied back out of the way in a tiny ponytail – it looked adorable, almost childlike. He wondered how on earth she’d managed it.

“Um, I don’t think so,” Harry answered, frowning a little in thought. “Mum liked making chocolate chip. Her white chocolate and macadamia ones are amazing.”

She smiled at him while rolling a ball of dough in her hands. “Did you cook a lot with her?”

“Sort of. She taught me how to make some different stuff, which was good when I moved out ‘cause the lads cooked fuck all,” he said with an amused smile. “They would’ve been living on pizza and mac and cheese without me.”

“I knew how to cook and yet I _still_ ate too much pizza and mac and cheese,” she laughed. “I think it’s all a part of the college experience.”

“Did you have a nice day there today?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “I did, thanks. Friday’s are normally pretty easy.”

“Which play are you studying?”

“ _Romeo and Juliet_. I wanted to do something different since I’ve already read it, but teaching it is meant to be different than studying it, which makes sense. I don’t really mind; I’m a sucker for tragic romance.”

_“What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun_!” Harry recited dramatically, and Taylor tried not to laugh. “We did it in sixth form. And Louis and Zayn did some of his stuff, heard it around the dorm.”

Taylor seemed delighted to be speaking with someone who had some sort of idea what she was talking about, which started a discussion about the star-crossed lovers. It was mostly her contributing, but Harry really didn’t mind. He liked the sound of her voice and the smile on her face as they moved onto the couch after the cookies were slotted into the oven.

Today Taylor was in a baby blue dress, cut high up her chest and short around her thighs. It flattered her eyes, which were made up the same as yesterday. She looked lovely.

“I like your necklace,” Harry complimented after she told him about the assignment she was currently working on. She brought her hand to her chest, touching the small bird that hung on a thin silver chain.

“Thank you,” Taylor smiled appreciatively, not having expected him to notice. “My mom got it for me for my birthday a few years ago.”

“She must have nice taste,” he smiled back charmingly. “Mine got me this one,” he added, reaching for the cross around his neck.

“It looks good with your shirt done up like that,” she said, laughing a little as she poked the bare skin just above the highest button he’d done up (i.e. she poked the middle of his chest). His muscles tensed at the contact.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Taylor asked when her eyes flickered back up to his. “I should’ve asked before, I’m sorry.”

“’s okay. I wouldn’t mind some tea, actually.”

“Sure,” she smiled, her hand brushing over his knee as she stood up. “How do you like it?”

Harry stayed on the couch as he made his request, his gaze wandering around the room again as the sound of water filling the kettle cut through the otherwise silence. He noticed a lit candle in a glass holder sitting on top of the bookshelf – that explained the sweet vanilla scent that swirled around the air like a gentle comfort. When he glanced a little further along he noticed there was a cat taking residence in the chair at the end, staring right at him with wide judging eyes. He cracked a smile.

“Hey, Taylor,” he called, resting his arm along the back of the couch as he looked over to see her fiddling with two mugs at the counter. “Does Meredith ever look friendly?”

Taylor smiled brazenly. “She has a resting bitch face, my poor baby.”

Harry laughed, glancing back the cat’s way. She was still staring at him, sitting up on the chair like it was her very own throne. He wondered how much power she actually had around here.

“I’ll show you some pictures of her when she was a kitten – she was so much nicer back then,” Taylor offered. “Do you wanna grab my laptop? It’s in the bag on the dining table.”

As the kettle finished heating up, Harry got up and collected her MacBook from the navy leather bag. They might’ve had the same model, but she was carrying hers around in a Prada bag that looked like it was worth more than the monthly rent on both his and her apartment combined. He tried not to touch it too much.

Putting the laptop on the coffee table, Harry waited for Taylor to finish the tea. Meredith yawned and sunk down onto her side, licking her paw lazily when she got comfortable. She didn’t look so menacing like that.

Two striped mugs in her hands, Taylor returned and tucked her bare feet under herself when she sat back down beside him. “I hope it’s okay,” she said as she carefully held one steaming cup out to him. “I probably should’ve gotten you to make it, Mr Englishman.”

“You’re into stereotypes, eh?” Harry smirked a little as he accepted the mug and gently blew on the top. “Maybe that’s why you’re being so nice to me – ‘cause you want a little English pet to make you exceptional tea.”

“Yes, Harry, I only want you for your cute accent and astounding tea-making abilities,” she deadpanned, setting her own cup on a coaster and picking up her laptop. She switched it on and glanced up at him, remaining serious as she added, “And because you’re not bad to look at, either.”

That legitimacy lasted a whole five seconds, breaking when Taylor started to laugh, setting him off too. He was starting to think he wouldn’t mind hanging around if only for superficial reasons.

Harry sipped his tea while she started typing on her keyboard. The cat sticker that covered the Apple logo on the lid had an angelic white glow bordering it; he wondered where Olivia was.

“Tea’s lovely, thanks,” he assured her, even though it wasn’t quite how he preferred, and Taylor’s lips curved up a little more.

“That’s three times you’ve said ‘ _lovely’_ now.”

He raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Are you keeping count?”

“I can’t remember the last time I heard a male say ‘lovely’. It makes you sound really posh.”

Taylor double-tapped her finger on the trackpad and glanced up at him, eyes smiling. Harry wondered how many Britain-born bodies she’d come across, since he didn’t really think he was _that_ proper. Maybe, so accustomed to his own manner, he had no idea how other people saw him here.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she clarified, seemingly noticing the debate going on in his head. “You’re just different. Good different.”

With that, Harry smiled and set his thoughts aside. He had always tried not to care what people thought of him, which turned out to be more of a fleeting practice rather than a constant reality. He was emotional, maybe overthought things more than he should, and if you knew where to cut him the deepest, you could easily shut him down. His confidence might’ve grown over the last few years, but he still worried that he wasn’t actually all that special. It felt nice to know that someone appreciated him, even if they didn’t know him that well.

“So here’s little Mere,” Taylor said a moment later, twisting her laptop so he could see the photo on the screen. The kitten looking curiously up at the camera looked a lot friendlier than the one sitting on the chair across the room.

“How long have you had her?”

“Umm,” Taylor glanced over at Meredith, biting down on her bottom lip. Harry surprised himself with his sudden urge to have his teeth pressing into the soft pinkness, quickly taking another sip of his tea to swallow the thought. “About seven years, I think,” she concluded. “Around that, anyway. I’ve had Olivia for three.”

“And you were allowed to have her in your dorm?” Harry asked, surprised. He hadn’t been allowed any animals in his, though he distinctly remembered staying in another building with a friend one night and finding a guinea pig running loose in the hall. The stoned owner had offered Harry a blunt as a thank you when he pointed him in the direction of the rogue pet. (He declined)

“You’d be surprised at how infrequently dorm checks occur,” Taylor smiled slyly. “And how well an insider, a vacuum, some scented candles, and a really nice friend can mask all traces of a forbidden pet.”

She side-eyed him; he didn’t quite believe it. Harry laughed at the ridiculousness of her hiding a cat, while there were countless amounts of people out there hiding serious contrabands. She was even sweeter – and a little more devious – than he thought.

Taylor started flicking through all these photos of Meredith over the years, pausing to tell stories and make some sort of sense as to _why_ the feline insisted on lounging around in human-like positions (really, Taylor had _no_ idea). She handed the laptop to him when the timer on the oven went off, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the last photo she’d opened up.

Harry guessed she was maybe twenty. With a long tangle of curly hair covering a white pillowcase, Taylor was frozen in a laugh, baby Meredith lying on top of her, paws resting on the bare skin of her chest. The pink spaghetti strap of her top had fallen off her pale shoulder. The photo had been taken from above, like someone had been sitting on top of her and the cat had strolled up and decided to interrupt whatever fun they’d been having. Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t have a flash of desire to have a moment like that with her – he chastised himself for such a silly thought.

When Taylor returned with a plate of fresh cookies, cinnamon scent overpowering the vanilla air, she sat back down close beside him, knees bumping as they twisted towards each other. She balanced the plate on her thigh and smiled as she looked back at the screen. “That’s another one from my dorm,” she told him, picking up a cookie and taking a bite. “Olivia’s more like that now – not caring about personal space.”

“Where is she?” he finally asked, taking a cookie for himself and melting into the warm softness of it. Nothing was better than treats right out of the oven, and, much like last night’s lasagne, the cinnamon biscuit was unbelievable. Totally unbelievable.

Taylor giggled at his silent wondrous reaction to the taste. “Probably still asleep on my bed,” she answered, though his mind had clearly changed focus. She smiled, “So, what’s your official stance on cinnamon.”

“Fucking brilliant,” Harry quickly declared, eagerly taking another bite. God, he was _really_ starting to love living next door to Taylor. Delicious food was always an honourable perk.

Taylor laughed again, carefully leaning forward to have a sip of her tea. “Thank you, Harry,” she grinned. “I have a feeling my cooking ego is going to significantly increase with you around.”

“I have a feeling my _waistline_ is going to significantly increase with you around,” he joked through a mouthful of cookie, the pair of them descending into further giggles.

Drinking their tea and devouring a good portion of the fresh biscuits, Taylor and Harry flicked through more photos, watching Meredith grow more self-entitled and Olivia bounce into the frame later on. The comfort of last night was right there, guiding them into conversation and laughter that came so refreshingly easily. Harry barely noticed the time passing, not until Taylor’s phone buzzed on the table – he hadn’t even realised it was there, and he jumped a little at the unexpected vibration against the wood.

Harry tried not to look too curious as Taylor read the message she’d received, though he couldn’t help his gaze drifting from the computer screen to her. He looked at her just in time to see her face steel, eyes narrowing as her thumb hovered over the keyboard on her phone.

“Everything okay?” he asked tentatively.

Taylor looked up at him, her expression softening. “What are you doing for dinner?”

“Umm,” Harry paused, trying to think of what he had in his fridge. He couldn’t recall anything exciting, and he was glad when she didn’t wait for him to give a proper answer.

“Wanna grab a pizza with me? There’s a great Italian place not far from here.”

“I thought you already had plans.”

“Not anymore,” she announced, sounding a little bitter as she looked back at her phone and started typing. Harry thought it best not to question it and just happily take the opportunity, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll see him another day.”

_Oh_. He got it now.

Taylor nodded to herself, glancing at the blank TV screen across from them and not revealing any more. He wouldn’t press – he didn’t think he had the right to, not when his friendship with her was only just beginning and he had no real concept of her relationship. It probably wasn’t even that big of a deal, anyway. Just because he’d been in a cancelled-plans relationship that had a shitty ending didn’t mean anyone else was going to have the same outcome.

When Taylor looked back at him a moment later, she appeared a little unsure of herself. “Look, if you’ve had enough of me, you don’t have–”

“Why would you think that?”

She paused, licking her lips slowly. “I just don’t want it to seem like I’m _making_ you hang out with me.”

Harry rubbed his chin, a smile starting to play on his face. “Want to know a secret?” he asked. She blinked at him and he revealed, “I’m finding being around you quite _lovely.”_

With her head tilting back, Taylor stifled a laugh. Harry wanted to pull her into a hug, but he wouldn’t. It was too soon for gestures like that.

By the time they climbed into Taylor’s car, the pair of them seemed to have almost forgotten that this wasn’t the original plan. Harry breathed in the leather smell of the sleek interior, still wondering why on earth she was living in this apartment when she appeared to have the means to upgrade. He could see her somewhere grand, fancy furnishings filling multiple rooms, all with a nice view of inner city SoHo. Not that there was anything too unpleasant about the location of their block – across the street was another set of apartments, and with a couple of small shops further down the road, it wasn’t too bad a place to call home. It was generally pretty quiet, too. But it wasn’t the kind of New York life he would’ve picked for someone like Taylor.

Aside from the radio, the drive was silent as they headed towards downtown. Harry was watching out the window – he liked the colours, watching the buildings go past and the lights blur. The first time he’d gone to Time Square had left him in awe, and not once since had he spent a car trip in any part of the city not watching the concrete environment outside. He didn’t notice any of Taylor’s occasional glances, nor the amused smile on her face when they approached a stop light.

“You can sing, y’know.”

Her voice snapped him out of his daydream, and he looked at her in confusion. He hadn’t realised he’d been humming along to the Train song that was playing through the speakers – it was just what he did.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to be shy,” Taylor told him, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel; she had admirably painted her nails blue to match her dress. _“When you move me, everything is groovy…”_

Harry shook his head, grinning as he looked back out the side window. It was tempting. He wanted to bust out into the familiar lyrics like he would ordinarily, but his voice was suddenly stuck, and he didn’t know how to do anything other than listen to Taylor’s voice blending in with Patrick Monahan’s. All he gave her was half a chorus, which was mainly prompted by her poking his chest insistently at _“just a shy guy.”_ He wasn’t shy. He just… didn’t feel like it right now.

Taylor gave up after that, and a song and a half later they were parked and walking side by side down the street. They passed a few closed shopfronts and some busy restaurants; Harry had only eaten around here once before at the Thai place for a work outing. Aside from regularly going to gigs, he didn’t normally get out much. He didn’t have the outside friendships here that his colleagues did.

Evidently Taylor did, since she appeared to know the girl working at the front counter of the Italian restaurant they’d just walked into. They had a quick catch up while they were escorted to a free table for two near the window. The window was always the preferred location – a classic date table – always giving you a free pass to let your eyes drift if need be. But with the blonde he had across from him, he didn’t expect to be taking advantage of that.

“I take it you like it here,” he guessed as they settled themselves in their seats, eyes meeting and lips curving.

“It’s a nice alternative if you don’t feel like making your own Italian.”

She wasn’t wrong. With deep red patterned wallpaper, the restaurant glowed a comforting warmth with the orb lights descending from the ceiling. The tables, covered in checked table cloths, were spread with just the right amount of distance between them to give the illusion of privacy. At 7:30, most of them were already filled with a colourful array of diners – families, couples, friends, older, younger. Harry wondered what the pair of them looked like to others.

“Can you speak any?” Taylor asked as she picked up one of the menus.

He did the same, almost laughing. “I may have lived closer to Italy than you have, but no. I did French at school.”

_“Bonjour, mon ami. Vous regardez le beau ce soir.”_

Harry frowned slightly as he tried to decipher the second sentence. He might’ve _taken_ French, but he didn’t say he was any _good_ at French. It was hardly his favourite class, and most of what he’d learnt had been left behind as soon as he got out of there.

“Hello, my friend. You look handsome tonight,” Taylor translated for him a moment later, an honest smile on her face. She was quick to move on, though. “I’m taking a French elective. I wanted to with my last degree but I always ended up being tempted by different things – I wasn’t passing it up this time.”

“Have you ever been before?”

“No, unfortunately. I’ll get my Eiffel Tower photo one day, though,” she vowed. She looked down at her menu, which prompted him to do the same. His interest in the list of dishes on offer was pretty much non-existent ever since she’d complimented him – in French _and_ English. What a dream.

Harry managed to glance it over, though, to save himself from looking totally idiotic when Taylor eventually asked what he wanted.

“I’m voting on garlic bread to start and then the capricciosa pizza,” she said. “But if you don’t like the sound of that one, I’d say the vegetarian is a close second.”

“The capricciosa sounds nice, yeah,” he agreed easily; he wasn’t too fussed, as long as it had a good base and plenty of cheese.

Taylor flagged down the next waiter (they didn’t strike up an it’s-so-good-to-see-you-again-how-are-you conversation like with the girl hosting) and it wasn’t long before they were presented with icy glasses of Diet Coke and lemonade, not unlike the teenage couple sitting a few tables over.

“So,” Taylor said, sipping through a straw that apparently she’d requested telepathically since he hadn’t ended up with one too. “What was the last song you listened to?”

Surprised by the question, Harry drew a blank at first. That had been hours ago now. “Umm…” he mumbled, pouting his lips in thought. “I think it was ‘Paradise’ by Coldplay.”

Taylor nodded. “I’m gonna keep asking this, y’know? I’m taking notes from you.”

“You could just _buy_ the magazine,” he gave a small laugh, and she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know _where_ to buy it from.”

“From all your reliable local newsagencies,” he said in a sing song voice. Taylor couldn’t fight back her smile.

They talked about him for a while. Harry gave her the run-down on what he was working on, giving her a peek of what was to come. She seemed genuinely intrigued, which was nice. He had gotten used to assuming his personal life wasn’t all that interesting, but here was someone listening to his every word. He had no clue who actually read his columns – it was a confidence boost to actually see someone (other than his mum on Skype) engaged in what he had to say professionally.

They talked their way through their serve of garlic bread (Harry was actually relieved they weren’t on a date like the teenagers who had avoided the tasty entrée, presumably for kissing purposes) and paused only for the welcomed interruption of more food. The pizza looked amazing, with fresh ingredients dotted all over a base of just the right crispiness. It made the takeaway one he’d ordered out of laziness the other week look like utter shit.

Somewhere they’d drifted off onto the topic of Taylor’s friends, and he wasn’t really sure why, but Harry asked about the one mystery person lingering in the back of his mind.

“What’s he like?” he asked as Taylor took a bite of the pizza slice in her hand. A string of mozzarella stretched between her teeth and the piece and Harry tried not to laugh. “Your boyfriend, I mean.”

The question brought a fond smile to Taylor’s face. He recognised that expression, that one of total contentment. Regardless of their cancellation tonight, she was happy with who she was with. She was in love.

“He’s amazing,” she sighed once she swallowed her mouthful. “His name’s Sam; we met in college. He was studying architecture and we saw each for the first time at the library when we were both in our last semester. It was around midterm time and I had been, like, OD-ing on coffee, and you’re not supposed to take coffee into the library in case you spill it but of course I did anyway, and I _actually_ spilled it all over my lap. I was like, _oh, shit_ , but it wasn’t so much of a disaster since he came over with all these tissues and offered me his sweater since it was long enough on me to cover the stain. I invited him over and we got talking and right before graduation we started dating. He’s working for a building company now and he was really supportive when I wasn’t really sure what I was doing – and now that I’m back to studying, of course. He’s really great.”

_If he’s so great, why did he ditch you tonight?_

Harry couldn’t help but think that _their_ story – the singing through the bathroom wall – would make for a more interesting, or at least _unique_ , story than a coffee accident. But that wasn’t fair, and quite frankly, it was a really stupid idea. He just thought she was friendly and he found her attractive – he didn’t _like_ like her.

“Sounds it,” he agreed instead. “What does he design?”

“Um, he’s working for a housing company,” she replied. “He’s designing for a subdivision in Thornwood at the moment.”

“No grand mansions or museums or libraries then?” he couldn’t refrain from commenting.

“He’s not a _genius,_ ” Taylor almost laughed; he was glad she took it lightly. “You can’t get a job designing all that stuff without experience. He’ll work up to that if that’s what he wants.”

Harry nodded, and after a few moments to take a couple more bites he let his curiosity continue. “So does he have an apartment around here, too?”

“He’s got a condo, like, twenty minutes from our place,” she answered, sipping through her straw. _Our place_. He could get used to that. “He’s getting some renovations done at the moment, so he’s been staying with me more lately, but it’s going to look great when its done.”

“So why don’t you live with him?”

“I don’t want to,” she said simply. Taylor’s brow creased in a frown and she shook her head a second later. “I don’t mean it like that, I just– I like where I am. I’m comfortable with how things are between us and, like, that’s a big step, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Harry said, though he didn’t really. He’d calculated that they had been together for over a year, so he didn’t exactly understand her apprehension by this point. If he had the choice of living in his apartment or in a nice condo with someone he loved, he would make the decision in a heartbeat. Hell, he’d moved into a flat with Niall after graduation even though he knew he would end up doing all the cooking and Niall would do a good majority of the eating. He’d volunteered to keep their two-bedroom space tidy; he’d touched Niall’s dirty laundry and played video games with him and pretty much always had a laugh because he _loved_ him. Sure, he’d complained about dishes in the sink and socks on the floor while they were happening, but Harry had learnt it was more fun that being alone.

Maybe she just didn’t crave the closeness that he did.

“Have you ever lived with someone you were dating?” Taylor asked, and he was pretty sure she already knew the answer was no.

With a shake of his head, Harry started telling tales of Casa Narry, which, as somebody who had never met the sunshiny Irish lad, she found quite amusing. She laughed and pulled faces at all the appropriate places (he really shouldn’t have told the story of walking in on some erotic whipped cream sharing since it had Taylor almost spitting Diet Coke all over the table). He couldn’t help but wonder what she was starting to think of him and his group.

The teenage couple seated near them left before they did. The swoopy-haired boy brushed his hand against the girl’s before he had the bravery to take it. She glanced up at him with shiny eyes and they smiled at each other shyly. It was sweet, innocent with hope blossoming between them. Harry and Taylor grinned at each other as they looked on, a silent wish for things to work out.

They made their departure soon after that, splitting the bill between them and exiting into the cooler night air. Taylor’s bare arms pricked with goose bumps and Harry longed to have a jacket to offer her. The black trench coat hanging up in his wardrobe sprang to mind, though he wasn’t sure why, exactly. It was only when they were buckled into their seats and starting to head home that he realised it was because it was classy and a little bit mysterious – why he’d bought it in the first place. He had to cover his smile with his fingers, elbow resting against the door as he looked out the window. He never knew whether or not she noticed.

The drive was quieter (minus the radio on and Harry’s unexpected sneeze). Taylor didn’t try to encourage him to sing again; she barely took her eyes off the street lamp-lit road. The only time that he was aware she looked at him was when he was staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

Harry couldn’t explain how she was fascinating to look at. He just gazed back at the street, as if that were more interesting than the girl with the cute nose and a rogue tendril of hair laying misplaced across the crown of her head.

The back carpark was creepy at night. Harry had never had a reason to use it before and he was suddenly really glad. The lot was enclosed and the few globe lights were a dim yellow, like whoever had designed it intended on it being the perfect crime scene location. Harry shivered and Taylor walked closer beside him, leading him through the back entrance with the help of a mini torch on her keychain.

“You don’t come through here alone a lot, do you?” Harry asked once they were safely inside the brighter building.

Taylor shook her head. “Not usually, no. But,” – she held up a small device on her keychain – “this is always a nice reassurance to have.”

It took him a moment to realise it was an alarm. He remembered one year in high school when the girls in his class went to a seminar and came back with these little buttons that sounded an alarm in case of an emergency, like if someone was trying to attack you. He remembered a stupid comment from one of the popular kids about the guys deserving them too, which, okay, _fair enough_ , but the circumstances were different for them. Everyone knew that.

“Have you ever wanted to pepper spray someone before?” Taylor wondered as they made their ascent up the stairs.

“What, someone specific, or–”

“Just in general,” she said. “It just sounds really satisfying.”

Harry glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “I’ll make sure to stay out of your way, then.”

A shove to the arm almost sent him bumping into the wall, the pair of them laughing.

“I wouldn’t spray _you_ ,” Taylor grinned. “Who do you think I am?”

Taylor was the one who almost got herself hurt this time tripping up the stairs when Harry easily replied, “A very beautiful woman.” The hand he instinctively reached for her back probably didn’t help her surprise, either.

When they made it to their floor, they stood outside Taylor’s door with an awkward pause. It _felt_ like they’d just been on a date and here was the part where they deliberated a goodbye kiss. (If they had, they would _definitely_ be kissing right now, garlic breath and all)

“Thanks for today,” Harry smiled at her, breaking the silence.

She nodded. “We’ll have to do it again soon.”

Taylor took the step in and wrapped her arms around him, Harry’s hands sliding around her waist naturally. She was small in a way that had him wanting to take her to bed and bundle her up in an all-body hug under the sheets. He was sure she would fit even better that way than she did standing up.

“Tom Ford,” she murmured as they held onto each other longer than necessary. It confused him at first, but when his brain managed to stop thinking of impossibilities, it clicked, and his lips tugged at a smile. “I was trying to figure it out last night. I think one of my brother’s exes gave him a bottle once. It smells so good.”

“Vanilla.”

“I love vanilla.”

Harry’s heart rate had almost doubled by the time Taylor eventually pulled away. She was smiling, and she twisted one of his curls around her finger before letting it fall back around his face.

“Have a nice night, Harry.”

“You too, Taylor.”

When Harry moved to his own door, he glanced back at Taylor who was already watching him. She didn’t look away like he expected her to – she held his gaze unashamedly. She was confident, with her smile and dip of her head before she disappeared inside doing more to him than he wanted to admit.

Harry spent too long that night lying in bed replaying each of their interactions, wondering whether he was the only one who couldn’t fall straight to sleep.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Five dinners over two weeks had taught Harry three things:

  1. He wasn’t quite as good a cook as he liked to think he was.
  2. He was about as exciting as the potted plant sitting on his desk.
  3. He was screwed.



The gig he’d gone to on the Saturday after the cookie/pizza night was pretty decent, which was good since the Wednesday night show sucked. Harry had managed a quick interview with the first band afterwards and had taken a few days to get his follow up article written nicely. Harry was normally pretty organised with everything, though he’d found his attention had started wandering _elsewhere._ It was easier to focus when he kept his phone switched off and tucked away in his bag.

Between their schedules, Harry had spent five out of thirteen nights with Taylor and had texted her throughout each of the days. He always went to her place, played with her cats, ate something ridiculously delicious, and couldn’t stop smiling as he chatted with the bubbly blonde. It all felt weirdly natural between them, an instant friendship that already meant a lot to him. Taylor was the first person in this city he didn’t work with who actually paid proper attention to him – that would always count for something.

Now it was the last Friday of March – deadline day. The level of stress in the office always spiked during the final week of work for the upcoming issue. Slacking off lead to panic much like that of students who left their assignments to the last few days, with editors tearing out their hair over drafts that needed re-revising and designers crying over formatting everything aesthetically on the general template. It was the one week you could actually piss off the normally chilled out Liza.

So far, Harry had managed to stay in the good books, and even though his section was the one in the drama zone this time, he wasn’t even the one in trouble.

“What the fuck do you mean you haven’t done them?!” Connor was yelling at Camryn, who was standing right beside him in front of the large pin up board on the front wall. Spread drafts were displayed up there so you could get a proper idea of what the issue looked like as a whole – Liza had a more finalized one in her office.

“I swear to god I–”

“Right here,” Connor thrusted his finger onto one of the sheets, almost poking a hole in the paper with the force. “Right here, there are two images, and right there,” – he pointed off in the direction of Eric’s computer – “there’s a fucking blank space. A blank space, Camryn. What the fuck?”

Camryn shifted uncomfortably on her feet. With not even five hours before the two o’clock deadline and a mysterious missing set of photos, it was surprising she wasn’t in tears after she’d already been yelled at by three people.

“Harry sent the email to _you_ , me, and Eric _two weeks ago_ ,” Connor ranted on, complete disregard for everyone else in the office who was trying to finish off work. “How can we have less than _five hours_ until we’re done here and you _don’t have them?”_

“I emailed Eric on Monday!” Camryn argued, folding her arms over her chest defensively. She was only a small girl, standing at 5’3 and fitting into a size zero. She was sweet; Harry really enjoyed having her around at gigs. She hadn’t been in since Monday though, off sick with who-knows-what. She was still looking pale, but that could’ve just been from all the attacks she’d endured ever since she stepped through the door this morning.

“Well Eric doesn’t _have_ the email!” Connor shot back. “Find whatever the hell you’ve done with the pictures. Half an hour, Rhoads.”

After Connor stalked off, rubbing his temples and no doubt going in search of another coffee, Camryn took the walk of embarrassment over to Eric’s desk where he and Harry were looking over the computer screen. Everyone was always present on Final Day, so everyone knew how fucked she was. Even with headphones in, it was impossible not to overhear the heated conversations she’d been in over the last twenty minutes.

“I swear to god I sent you that email,” she said in a tiny voice. Harry, who was leaning against the desk, gently rubbed her back. He really felt bad for her – all this was probably just some miscommunication.

Eric didn’t even divert his stare from the screen in front of him. “We triple checked. Can’t find it.”

Camryn’s freckled face fell, and as soon as she went to walk away Harry grabbed her by the hand. She looked up at him with wide, sad eyes, and he didn’t think twice before leading her through the rows of desks and out to the stairwell, gazes failing to be discreet at staring as they passed. He took her up a flight and sat at the top, patting the space beside him. Camryn sunk down and put her head in her hands.

At first, Harry gave her a moment to herself. He didn’t look at her or offer any more comforting gestures; he just let her sit there and have some peace. If it were him, he’d be freaking the fuck out right now, but not her. Camryn’s breaths were heavy, but she gave no more than a little sniffle. Harry thought that was kind of brave.

“I believe you,” he said quietly after a while. Camryn looked at him, confused, so he repeated himself, “I believe you. About the email.”

“Oh,” was all she said.

Another silence, and Harry chewed his bottom lip. “How can I help?”

“Give me a time machine?” Camryn laughed bitterly. She toed the step down with a Conversed foot. “You still can’t drive, can you?” He shook his head and she pressed her lips together to form a line. “It’ll take me ages to get the bus back home. I know the photos are on my computer. No way would I have deleted them.”

They’d already checked her laptop and come up short, so if the pictures were anywhere, it was going to be on her home computer. Liza was always nagging them about USB’s and portable hard drives and “hopping on the cloud”, and it was times like these that made it clear why: leave something at home without a backup copy and you’re fucked.

Harry jumped to his feet. “So let’s go.”

Ignoring her protest, he skipped down the stairs and back into the office, making a beeline for Jared’s desk. Jared was stacking stationary to make a tower, his steady hand placing an eraser on the top rendered useless when Harry surprised him by approaching from behind.

“Fuck you, Styles,” he muttered as his tower toppled over, one of his markers rolling off onto the floor. “I was doing so well.”

“Can you give me and Cam a ride to her place?” Harry asked quickly. “Please? I’ll buy you a drink tonight.”

Jared didn’t hesitate in reaching for his keys, swinging them around his index finger. “I was going to offer anyway, but now that I’m getting a drink out of it…” He grinned up at Harry wickedly, and all he could do was laugh.

The three of them were in Jared’s two-door a few minutes later. Camryn chewed her thumbnail in between giving Jared directions to her apartment. The radio was turned to a pop station, just as it always was in Jared’s car. The boppy beat didn’t suit the tension exuding each of them.

Even though they’d been out together plenty of times, Harry had never actually seen Camryn’s place before. It was in the opposite direction to his; they always ended up going their separate ways at the end of their nights. He knew she lived with a few of her friends – one gave her a ride to and from work every day – but none of which he knew. He wasn’t sure whether anyone in the team had been to hers before.

The building they pulled up to almost thirty-five minutes later looked the same as Harry’s, only in a different part of town. They climbed two sets of stairs and Camryn let them into an apartment (much bigger than Harry’s) that smelled of dog. They were bombarded by an excited Pomeranian almost as soon as the door opened.

“Not now, Perry,” Camryn grumbled, which did nothing to stop the blonde fluff ball from jumping all over Harry’s legs. He scooped it up while Camryn started off down a hallway, the two guys following along behind her with untrained obedience.

It was a pretty average apartment, decorative and a bit messy. Camryn’s room was filled with photographs plastering the walls, clothes on the floor and a dark bedspread crumpled on top of the double bed in the corner. There wasn’t a lot of light coming in through the half-open curtains; the computer she switched on projected a blue glow. Camryn sat at the chair, leaving the two to stand around awkwardly in amongst all her things.

“You could’ve left him out there,” she said, nodding towards the open door when she started watching the dog in Harry’s arms trying desperately to lick him on the cheek.

“He’s cuddly,” Harry smiled with no apparent care for the struggle he was having scratching the fluff behind the ears while trying not to drop the over-eager pet. “D’you wanna hold him?” he asked Jared, who shook his head a little too quickly from his spot a wide step away. Harry raised his eyebrows at him, though Jared pretended not to notice.

Apparently playing with other people’s pets had become his thing, since as Camryn searched her computer and Jared overlooked, Harry sat on a clear bit of floor and messed around with little Perry. He’d brought his phone with him for the journey and had texted Eric and Connor the plan, receiving a few licks on his fingers and one disgusting wet stripe across the screen when he typed a reply mid-playing (he’d wiped it on the carpet to clean it off). He was only half expecting his phone to ring, but the ID that flashed up on his screen while Camryn cursed her slow Internet connection hadn’t, for a change, crossed his mind.

“Hey, love,” he answered; he ignored the questioning look Jared flashed him.

“Are you busy? I’m in between classes and I wanted to ask you something,” Taylor said, her voice sounding just as nice over the phone as it did in person.

“Um–” Harry tried to settle Perry, who had decided to jump on him and bark again. He heard a laugh through the speaker.

“Was that a _dog?_ ” she asked, intrigued smile clear in her words. “If it’s Bring Your Pet to Work Day, you could’ve borrowed one of mine. Mere would’ve loved to take a dog down.”

“I think the Pomeranian would win,” he decided as two paws in need of clipping jumped on his jeans _right there_. Harry winced and tried hopelessly to encourage Perry over to Jared instead.

“Anyway, I was wondering what you’re doing tonight?” Taylor continued, pausing only briefly so he couldn’t give an immediate answer. “A bunch of us are going out tonight and I wanted to know if you would like to come?”

“Um–”

“It’s low key; you’d totally be welcome,” she assured him quickly. “We’re just getting drinks. It’ll be fun; everyone will love you, I promise.”

Harry felt terrible for having to say, “I can’t.”

“Oh,” she exhaled, all the nervous excitement leaving her body with his two words. All that time spent imagining the night and working up the nerve to actually offer the invitation wasted with those two words.

“We always go out after we get the issue done,” he explained, needing her to know that he wasn’t purposely trying to crush her thoughtful offer. “I’m sorry.”

There was a short pause, and when Taylor spoke again she sounded a little guilty, “And you _have_ to go?”

Harry eyed his co-workers, one of whom he had their full attention. He ignored Jared’s blatantly obvious eavesdropping and looked back at Perry. “I should, yeah,” he answered, quieter. “I could come another time?”

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll let you know when,” she replied, her tone still laced with disappointment. “How’s work going?”

“Umm, stressful.”

“Should I let you go?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, love.”

“Have a nice day, Harry.”

“You too.”

When the call ended, Harry put his phone on the floor and glanced back at Jared’s knowing look, laughing a little. It wasn’t what he was thinking.

 

*** * * * ***

 

Camryn thankfully found the photos and emailed them back to the office before Connor broke something out of frustration. Tension levels had decreased by the time the three made their way back, and it felt more like it normally did on deadline day. Less stress, more relief.

They always got the rest of the afternoon off, of which Harry spent a good portion napping on the couch. They didn’t meet up again until six at a local bar, all of them dressed up nicer than before. Most notable was Eric’s bright red-framed glasses and black and white spotted shirt (apparently Mallory had picked them out).

It was rare that everyone ever attended. Liza was more often than not a no-show, which was probably for the best considering the amount of bitching that tended to go down. Camryn hadn’t turned up this time, unsurprisingly. She was probably drinking away the day in the privacy of her own home where no one was going to make any underhanded comments.

Tonight they had twelve of them circled around two tables, empty glasses scattered towards the centre in favour of full ones. The band, dressed in an array of colours that had Harry wondering why he hadn’t thought to buy a pair of white jeans before, was playing a cover of Snow Patrol’s ‘Chasing Cars’ up on the small stage. It was relaxed, a well-earned night out after the month of work they’d accomplished.

Harry was sitting between Jared and Mallory, who had disappeared to the bathroom with Jourdan under the “must never go alone” rule of Girl Code. He swirled the cider in his glass and glanced to his left.

“So,” he said, a smirk creeping up on his face, “you’re afraid of dogs.”

“Fuck off,” Jared retorted, though it came out mumbled as he quickly lifted his own drink to his thin lips.

“’s nothing to be ashamed of. There’s plenty of valid reasons to be afraid of them.”

Jared’s jaw tightened. “I mean it, Styles.”

“Their tendency to attack you with their love and affection being number one.”

Harry earned himself a slap on the arm which he just laughed off. The entire time they were at Camryn’s, Jared had avoided going near Perry the Pomeranian, only looking down at the dog to make sure it wasn’t about to latch itself onto his leg anytime soon. Jared didn’t seem like one to be frightened by the animals, especially not little fluffy ones that obviously meant no harm; Harry had made a thoughtful move to only mention it when no one else was paying attention to them.

“The small ones are the worst,” Jared muttered. “Fuckers trick you into a false sense of security because of their size. I’m not falling for it.”

A quick study of Jared’s dark-haired profile, the muscles of his back and shoulders tense and the firm grasp of the glass still in his hand, piqued Harry’s curiosity. “How many times have you been tricked?”

He didn’t answer straight away, his gaze drawn down at the table. “I was bitten on the wrist when I was eleven,” he eventually admitted, voice lower but still loud enough to be heard over the music. He rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and reached for his watch, undoing the clasp and sliding it off. In the dark light Harry struggled to see exactly what he was meant to be looking at, but with the handy glow of his iPhone he managed to spot the silvery scars marking Jared’s pale wrist. They were ragged where teeth had tugged at and torn through young skin.

“Wow,” Harry gasped. “What kinda dog did that?”

“Our neighbours had this weird cross breed. It was like a Jack Russell and a Staffy – it had that big head but with the Jack Russell markings,” Jared recalled, focusing on fixing his watch back on. “I’d never seen it show any aggression towards anyone before, but one day I was out in the yard and the bastard bit me. I’d just offered to take it for a walk, and when I was clipping on the leash it sank its fucking fangs into me for no fucking reason. Mom took me to the hospital to make sure I didn’t get rabies or some shit and they gave me four stitches. Hated dogs ever since.”

It was then Harry remembered how little he actually knew about Jared – about all of his co-workers, really. He was aware that there was a lot about himself he kept locked away, but that thought had blocked out the obvious reciprocal. What was even stranger was that he’d known these people for three months now and he’d met Taylor two weeks ago and he felt closer to her than he did to them. He swallowed that thought with another sip of cider.

“What about cats?” Harry wondered. “You’re fine with cats and they tend to be more temperamental.”

“Darius is an asshole, but he’s not a biter. There’s comfort in knowing you’re only going to be scratched and occasionally wake up to dead mice or pools of vomit at the end of your bed.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I know.”

The pair of them laughed, and Harry spotted the girls now at the bar. Mallory was gesticulating wildly as she relayed another one of her dramatic stories; they wouldn’t return to the table for a while longer, he suspected.

“What breed did you say Taylor’s got?” Jared asked in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the direction of the conversation to something a little juicier.

“Scottish Folds,” Harry answered confidently, trying to manoeuvre it back: “What’s Darius again?”

“Ragdoll. No wonder he’s so pretentious.”

“Doesn’t help that you named him _Darius._ ”

“What’s wrong with Darius?”

“It sounds like the name of some posh rich kid. The dad’s fucking his receptionist and the mum’s always hitting on the young pool boy and drinking too much wine at night, but it’s fine ‘cause their perfect son Darius is doing great in school and is set to take over the family business.”

Jared snorted and Harry laughed a little too loudly, which cast an odd glance their way from Eric who was sitting a few seats away, pulled out of his own conversation by the sound. He didn’t ask, though. Once Jared and Harry had buddied up, nobody really tried to question their inside antics.

When they calmed themselves, Jared planted his palm on the tabletop and declared, “I have a theory,” which already had Harry groaning.

“I think I’ll need another drink for this,” he said, only half joking.

“No, no, you’ll like this one,” Jared assured him with a sly smile. “So. She’s begging you to meet her friends after two weeks–”

“She wasn’t _begging_.”

“–so I’m betting you two will be fucking by the end of next month.”

Downing the remaining liquid in his glass, Harry shook his head. He knew he’d regret answering Jared’s questions about the phone call, or any Taylor-related questions, really. Reality wasn’t the sparkly, hyped-up picture in Jared’s head (or Harry’s fantasy land he visited before he fell asleep, for that matter).

“Boyfriend, remember?” he always acknowledged.

“What’s to say they won’t break up?”

“Her doe eyes whenever she talks about him,” Harry muttered. He pushed his glass towards the centre of the table and rose from his seat. “’m going to the bar.”

Jared gave him a scolding look. “The theories work, Styles.”

“In _theory_ , not in practice.”

Harry passed Mallory on his way, who smiled prettily and wiggled her fingers at him in a wave. Jourdan, a step behind her, rolled her eyes at the gesture.

Strong liquor had never been Harry’s regular choice; he ordered another cider and scouted the few other people standing nearby. It was almost out of habit that he started hitting on the brunette with the tight skirt and ski slope nose. He’d found it surprisingly easier here; it had become a bit of a joke between the team. All it took was a flash of his shiny white teeth, a pop of his dimples, and some charming words in his slow accented voice and Harry could score a number. Nothing serious ever came from it – he couldn’t recall spending more than one night with anyone he’d met since moving here. It was kind of nicer that way, considering the shit storm that ended his last relationship. Simple was good. Simple didn’t hurt anyone. Simple kept his heart intact.

Receiving the usual lot of banter when he sat himself back down at the table with a full glass and another addition to his contact list, the rest of the night was pretty average. They drank too much and talked too loud and bopped their heads too enthusiastically (okay, _maybe_ it was just Harry and Jared messing around on that last one).

They all took their usual routes home, with Harry, Jared and Mallory piled in the back of a taxi. Jared’s apartment was the first stop, his building a cream brick with small balconies. Mallory lusted over it every time, always going on about how the exterior of her own block wasn’t nearly as chic and how _she_ deserved the style more than he did. The boys had learnt to tune her out.

“Listen, Harry,” Jared slurred as he flicked through his wallet for a few bills. “Give it a month. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“It won’t happen.”

“You never know.”

Harry accepted his contribution to the fare and patted him on the back as he climbed out of the car. He cursed him for reminding him after he’d managed to set the thought aside with other conversation. He knew it wouldn’t happen. He dabbled in the idea until he fell asleep, but he knew it wouldn’t. It couldn’t.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

Or maybe it could.

When Harry woke up at midday, he made the decision to spend a well-earned day in front of the television, volume not turned up too loud for his mild headache. He munched on strawberry jam-coated toast and sipped at a cup of tea, the laziness of his loose t-shirt and sweatpants always a welcomed stay-at-home attire.

He could’ve easily fallen back to sleep there, but the tap on the door had another plan swinging into action. Harry wandered over to answer it, deciding whoever was on the other side wouldn’t care that he hadn’t brushed his hair. The tired, smiling face he was greeting by had him wishing he actually had.

“Hungover?”

Harry’s lips tugged up guiltily. “Maybe a little.”

Taylor stepped in when he moved aside, her eyes giving a quick sweep of the place. She hadn’t been inside since she’d first properly introduced herself; her apartment was done up nicer, and Harry liked being there instead of pretending that his was equally homey.

“You’re totally lucky you didn’t come last night,” she let him know, folding her arms over her pastel pink tee. “Emilia threw up down the side of Josh’s car and he looked like he was going to cry.”

Taylor’s nose wrinkled sweetly and Harry slipped his hands in his pockets to deter himself from the sudden urge to wrap her up in a hug. He wondered what she would do if he did throw himself at her every time the thought crossed his mind.

“Wouldn’t want to be the one cleaning that up,” Harry replied, and she quickly shook her head.

“God, no. I hope he went through a car wash so he didn’t have to do it himself.”

“Maybe we should change the topic.”

“I think so.”

The pair laughed and made their way over to the couch, brushing against each other as they got themselves comfortable. Taylor tucked her legs underneath her and it was then he realised that she had arrived only wearing a pair of polka dot socks on her feet.

“I see you’re giving your legs a chance to breathe,” she teased, pinching at the grey fabric of his pants with an amused smirk on her lips.

Harry flicked her hand away playfully, smiling in insistence, “My jeans aren’t _that_ tight.”

“I’ve never met a man who regularly wears jeans as tight as you do.”

“You’re a liar.”

She rested her hand over her heart in faux shock. “I’m offended.”

“So am I,” he laughed.

Taylor grinned at him, patting his thigh so the skin underneath his sweats sparked. “You’re lucky tight looks good on you,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if her voice sounded flirty because she meant it to or because he was thinking he _really_ needed to go put some underwear on before she noticed he’d skipped that step when getting dressed earlier.

“What about loose?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I think you’ve been blessed with genetics that allow you to look good in anything,” she complimented broadly, and he smiled and put his hand over hers to show his thanks. Taylor’s cheeks turned the slightest shade darker and she glanced away toward the TV, changing the subject. “Is _The Office_ always your choice of show to dull your hangover?”

“I wouldn’t really say I’m _that_ hungover,” he said, though with her pointed look at the open packet of aspirin sitting next to his cup on the table Harry corrected himself: “Not _unbearably_ hungover.”

Taylor smiled at him. “ _Friends_ is my top choice.”

“S’pose you’re disappointed you came here instead of watching it at yours then.”

“Yeah,” she deadpanned. A beat passed before she cracked a laugh and gave his shoulder a light shove. “I like your company.”

It certainly seemed like that was truth. They spent the rest of the day together, drifting in and out of casual conversation and comfortable silences. It was miles better than sitting alone; it reminded Harry of being back in London. The simplicity of having someone he got on well with in close proximity with no pressure to say or do anything was something he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed. He’d found Taylor ticking a lot of those boxes he’d forgotten about, which was exciting if not a little terrifying. It made it harder to ignore how attracted he was to her.

That was partly why he hadn’t been devastated that Taylor’s invitation to meet her friends had coincided with the monthly work celebration. Pretending that there was some kind of chance that something _could_ happen between them was a lot easier to do when he didn’t officially know the guy who had her heart. Harry didn’t want to meet him and shake his hand and make small talk when he had a stupid little _crush_ on Taylor. God, how had he let himself fall into this pointless trap? He almost wanted to unlock the memory box full of reasons why romantic feelings were royally shitty and should be avoided at all costs. _Almost_.

Perhaps one of the stupidest mistakes he made was talking about it. As soon as he’d announced that his neighbour was a goddess walking among mere mortals – as soon as he’d had that very thought – he was screwed. He’d admitted it; he’d made it real. Even if he never outright said _“I like Taylor”_ it was now too late for his friends not to figure it out on their own. Lord knows Jared already had, with all his prying questions and impractical theories. Harry should’ve kept his mouth shut and maybe he would have a better handle on his thoughts.

Harry, as he’d learnt to do whenever he was around her, ignored the damned voice in his head singing out that if their hearts stopped beating they’d bleed the same way. They watched reruns and ate toasted cheese sandwiches for a late lunch and drank tea and brushed against each other a total of nine times (yes, Harry was counting). Taylor offered to go once the light started to dim, but at his insistence she only made a short disappearance to check on her cats and put out some more food for them. They ordered takeout (not as good as anything they had prepared themselves) and chilled for a while longer until they were both yawning.

If only their friendship level was up a step and they could’ve fallen asleep like that, side by side.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

The next week was a creative one. With a new topic for the team, ideas flew all around as they brainstormed _‘façade’._ The first few days were always messy, with notes scrawled on loose paper and unofficial plans drafted on calendars. Everyone was at the height of their happiness, coming down from the relief of finishing the last issue and entering a fresh mindset full of potential. It was the best time to be around.

With some batting of eyelashes and irrefutable logic, Harry also had himself some Saturday night plans he couldn’t say no to. Taylor had roped him into a night out on the grounds that he wasn’t doing anything for work and he might miss out again if he didn’t take up the offer now. He didn’t mention that he was awfully suspicious she’d set it up on purpose.

In the few days’ notice he had, Harry used his young music journalist sophistication to get over his apprehension over the whole idea, not even mentioning it to anyone in person. Online was another story.

“Is it too much?” Harry asked his computer screen as he held up an elaborately patterned button down, the fifth shirt he’d debated with an hour and a half until he was set to leave for the night.

“When have you ever cared about being too much?”

_“Louis,”_ he whined, tossing the top onto his bed, only just missing the edge of his laptop. He’d called an emergency Skype session when he started (unnecessarily) freaking the fuck out.

“Why are you putting so much thought into this?” Louis asked, the opposite of a question Harry wanted to hear. Harry cringed as he turned his attention back to the inside of his closet. “You said this wasn’t a _date_.”

“I just want to make a good impression on her friends,” he reasoned, fingering the silver coat hangers holding up the collection of clothing he’d gathered over the last few years. So many shirts, not enough decisions.

Even without facing the screen, he knew Louis was analysing him. No one knew him in the way that Louis did, and it was rare that either of them could get away with anything with each other. He could say anything he wanted, but if there was anyone who was going to see through it, it was going to be him.

“Harry.”

He flashed his friend a pleading look. He didn’t want an interrogation, especially not with his paranoia that his voice would carry through the thin walls.

Louis tugged down on the sleeve of his hoodie, the navy material coming over his knuckles. He looked soft, his hair falling a little fluffy from a recent wash and his expression filled with a gentle warmth reserved for those he cared about. That’s what Harry loved about him – as lively and outspoken as he was, he had a lighter side that he didn’t show the whole world. He was protective and kind; he was like the older brother Harry never had.

“I like the first one,” he said, and Harry sighed as he flopped down on his bed, careful not to crumple his pile of considered clothes.

“Why didn’t you just say?”

“Oi, turn the screen.”

Harry twisted his laptop around so it was facing him again, propping himself up on his elbow to get a better view. He’d only been to their place a handful of times, but he always recognised the blue feature wall in Louis’ bedroom in the flat he shared with Zayn. Even without it visible on the screen, he remembered where the chip in the paint was – hidden behind the free-standing lamp Louis’ mum had found in a garage sale – from when they had gotten a little too enthusiastic messing around with a football indoors one afternoon and accidentally tipped the lamp over, one of the metallic pointed ends of the far-too-fancy shade sending a fleck of paint falling to the grey carpet. As far as he knew, Zayn still hadn’t painted it back in for him.

“I’d forgotten how nervous you get sometimes.”

“I’m not _nervous_.”

“ _Right_.” Louis sounded unconvinced, unsurprisingly. He thankfully didn’t try to dispute. “So which of your many pairs of boots are you wearing?”

They spent a while on the decision, Harry sliding on the black shirt with tiny white dots that had been the winner and stepping in and out of different shoes until they agreed on a tan pair. Harry told him more about his simple evenings with Taylor and the plans for tonight: he was tagging along with her squad for a few hours at a bar he’d heard of but had never been to before. Louis filled him in on what was going on back home, easier done when they weren’t communicating via text. Harry felt that familiar pang of longing he always got when he heard about his friends having fun without him. He hadn’t expected them nor did he wish them to be miserable without him, but they all had the shape of one missing person while he had five and that somehow didn’t seem fair, as impractical as that thought sounded. _He’d_ been the one who chose to leave, after all.

They stayed connected until there was a knock on the door, and even then Louis proposed that Harry carry the laptop with him so he could “meet” the girl who was whisking him out on a fine Saturday night. Their goodbye was hasty, well-wishes delivered without a promise of when they’d video chat again. Harry didn’t mind so much, since the quickened pace of his heart was too distracting to overthink it at the moment.

A quick last glance in the bathroom mirror and he grabbed his keys to go, the sight he opened the door to one he was sure would’ve had Louis’ jaw dropping. It certainly caught him off guard.

For a second, Harry thought he was seeing double. Two blonde beauties stood before him, their slender arms linked at the elbow. They were both in figure-hugging dresses, one in a classic little black dress and the other white with silver sparkles, like they’d planned the ying and yang look in advance. The woman on the right was a few inches taller; Harry had to look up at her to see the striking similarities between her and the face he’d started to grow eager to see when he got home from work every day.

His surprise must have been evident on his face since the girls started giggling (weirdly in unison) and glancing at each other.

“Harry, this is Karlie,” Taylor introduced with a tilt of her head to the side. “Karlie, this is Harry. He’s new here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry smiled, extending his hand out politely. Karlie shook it warmly, smiling back at the gesture. “You both look amazing,” he complimented, “like you’re off to an A-list party to drink lots of champagne and eat tiny canapes and make irrelevant small talk you won’t remember in the morning.”

“Specific,” Karlie noted.

“Definitely a writer,” Taylor nodded, giving him a quick wink. “C’mon, we have some royal disappointment in store for you.”

Harry locked up behind him and was thrilled to be walking down the stairs with these two, squished together with his arm linked with Taylor’s like they did it all the time. Her skin was cool and clear, unlike his tattooed bicep that was heating against her touch.

They drove to the bar, bridging the gap on the ride. He’d heard stories and descriptions of Karlie, but it was different having it come out of her own mouth. Still working in the café where she had met Taylor, Karlie was in her second year of college at NYU, majoring in teaching as well as taking computer science. It seemed strange coming from a girl who had grown up learning ballet and modelled part time for the art department. Harry could easily see her pursuing either path, but there was something he really liked about her breaking out of that stereotypical mould and going after something that genuinely interested her. He hadn’t a clue how to code anything, but apparently she was working on programming a mini game for one of her assignments. An actual working _game_. She promised he could play it when it was finished.

Harry followed a step behind the girls when they arrived, watching them scout the room for their friends. A small group sitting at one of the back tables waved in their direction, rising from the booth they were occupying for a proper greeting. He recognised a few faces from photos he’d seen; it was easy to pick the boyfriends. One of the dark-haired guys moved towards Karlie, enveloping her in a welcoming hug – that was Josh. Taylor fell into the arms of a taller man, light brown hair and a smile Harry couldn’t see because it was too busy connecting with Taylor’s. Harry glanced away automatically, his eyes landing on a pretty girl who was already looking at him in a mix of sympathy and interest. She manoeuvred her way past to stand in front of him.

“They’re normally pretty tame,” she assured him, tucking a strand of her ombré hair that had fallen from her high bun behind her ear. Harry resisted mentioning any wild times he wished he wasn’t privy to. “I’m Emilia,” she added, and he shook her hand.

“Harry,” he replied, trying not to picture her puking down the side of a car. He hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat later.

Emilia flashed her teeth in a smile, her bottom set slightly crooked. “You’re the one who lives next door to Taylor, right?”

“Yeah, I’m Taylor’s neighbour,” he confirmed, mostly just as an excuse to taste her name on his tongue. _Taylor_ – he loved how it rolled off, how the sound of her own name always seemed to twitch her lips upwards when it was coming from him.

It caught her attention now, her blonde bob flicking out as she turned her head to look his way. She stepped out of the arms slung around her waist and back to his side, her hand resting on his shoulder. “You’re stealing my introduction,” she teased, impressively getting everyone’s attention when she requested it a moment later. “Guys, this is Harry. He moved here from London not long ago, but that doesn’t mean you get to spend the night asking him to say words for you in his cute accent.”

The collective chuckled, and Harry didn’t even need to look to know he had one critical stare fixed on him among the sets of friendly eyes greeting him. He didn’t blame him – he would be wary too if his girlfriend was suddenly bringing a new guy into the picture, touching him and calling him cute. When Taylor introduced everyone one by one, he hoped _“I’d like to kiss her”_ wasn’t like a neon sign flashing on his forehead when he met Sam’s gaze. If it was, Sam didn’t let on.

After another girl (Madeline) joined them, they squished back into the booth. Harry was wedged between Emilia and Karlie, Taylor sitting directly across with Sam’s arm around her. One of the guys, Levi, went to grab a round of drinks, which Harry was sure he was going to need. He’d always been good with people, whether he knew them well or not, though he found himself somewhat unsure of how to slot himself inside the conversation that was already flowing freely without him. A glass in his hand was a nice distraction.

“Steph’s been planning her party,” Maddy was saying, her thick accent one Harry would probably never know how to accurately locate. “Y’all are obviously invited; she needs theme ideas.”

“She’s really doing a theme again?” Taylor asked, frowning the slightest at the news.

“Last year might not have gone the best, but it won’t be the same,” Maddy insisted, missing Taylor’s unsubtle eye roll. “So, ideas. At the moment, ‘pirates’ is at the top of her list.”

Sam and the two guys down from him, Levi and Callum, shared a pleased look that Harry could only guess was to do with the possibility of the skimpy costumes. “Aye, aye, matey,” Sam called in character, and the three of them laughed. Teo, the next along, rolled his eyes.

Suggestions started bouncing around from here, all the while Harry stayed quiet, trying to figure out if his input was wanted within the well-formed group.

“What about zombies?”

“Supernatural?”

“Animals?”

“I wanna go as a tiger!”

“Pooh Bear and friends!”

_“No children’s characters again.”_

“How about, like, an end of winter theme?”

_“Frozen!”_

“Literally what did I just say about children’s characters?”

“What about a toga party?”

Harry remembered the one and only toga party he’d been to at uni and he smirked down at his glass at the thought. Almost immediately the toe of a shoe tapped at his shin, his gaze flicking back up to see Taylor giving him a _“tell me”_ look he already knew how to read.

“Have any of you actually been to a toga party before?” he spoke up, earning a praising smile from Taylor. It, a little stupidly, spurred him on when he was answered by the shaking of heads. “Went to one back in London. It was like, we were in our first year of uni, and, like, just excited to be experiencing all that, you know?”

A few knowing glances between the people around him was all he needed to know that that was _yes_ , they knew.

“So this was like, a celebration of the end of mid-semester exams, and we weren’t planning on going, ‘cause, like, who wants to go to a toga party when it’s, like, ten degrees outside? Not ten exactly; I can’t remember, but it was _cold_. We were just going to have a bit of a thing between us, maybe order some pizza, grab a couple of pints, make our own fun. Like, sometimes you just want to play it safe, you know? Do something you know you’ll like instead of something that could turn out shit. But, um, someone started a bit of a dare, and it was just meant to be a bit of fun, no harm to anyone. But it was a bit of a windy night–”

Taylor was grinning at him and shaking her head slowly, and Harry paused to give a bit of a laugh. He mostly looked at her as he continued talking.

“–And we only had these sheets wrapped around us. They weren’t really that thick, either, but, like, bundled up enough that you couldn’t see anything underneath. ‘Cause that’s what everyone does, right? No one _really_ owns a proper toga.”

“No, actually, my sister has one,” Teo, sitting against the wall, interrupted. “She’s very serious about dress up parties.”

“Her Ariel costume was unbelievable,” Taylor sighed in remembrance, resting her chin on her hand. Sam’s arm slid down to her waist.

“Her costume wasn’t the only thing that was unbelievable,” Levi smirked, with Teo smacking him on the chest.

_“Anyway,”_ Teo drawled. “Continue, Harry.”

“Um.” He took a small sip of his drink, trying to remember where he was up to. He’d rightfully never really been commended for his storytelling skills. “There were quite a few people who weren’t even dressed up, actually. Bit disappointing, really; it wasn’t that hard for us to wrap ourselves up in sheets. Everyone has sheets.”

“But is everyone capable of fashioning a successful toga out of a sheet?” Taylor asked, a subtle nudge further along.

“Well, _I_ thought I was until the wind caught me and–”

“Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

“–I wasn’t wearing any pants–”

“Oh my god.”

The laughter that had filled many of their conversations resurfaced, and it was almost like it was a private joke between the two of them rather than a story of Harry’s own. It still had smiles cracking on the faces around them.

“I didn’t flash the _whole_ party,” Harry vowed.

“Shame,” Emilia quipped, which had Taylor’s jaw dropping and laughs bouncing between the booth.

“Are you wearing any now?” Maddy threw in for good measure.

“Would you like to come take a look?” Harry jokingly moved to stand up, earning himself excited giggles from the girls. He shouldn’t have worried about winning them over – he’d never had a problem being liked in that department. It was the guys he wasn’t too sure about. Most of them looked amused, if not a little sceptical.

“Well you’re definitely invited,” Maddy concluded, taking a sip through the pink straw floating in the drink in front of her. “Steph’s going to love you.”

The flicker of displease on Taylor’s face went unnoticed by all but Karlie, whose expression softened at her best friend.

As the conversation continued on, Harry felt more included, more allowed to contribute and to laugh at the jokes he (mostly) got. It was nice to be spending time with people he’d only heard about in stories. Getting to know strangers was something he’d always found interesting; it seemed more so now that he was acquainting himself with those Taylor chose to be around. You could learn a lot about someone by the people they called their friends.

Empty glasses were always replaced with new ones, and as time went on the group started to shift, drifting to other tables so they weren’t all squished up in the one booth. Harry mostly tried to stay where Taylor was, and with that always came Sam.

Based on appearance alone, Harry had decided Sam was someone he could be friends with. Not for any pretentious reason like because his haircut was on trend (he had it shorter at the sides and in a bit of a quiff at the top), but because he didn’t look like he was about to beat him up for the contents of his wallet, and that made him okay in Harry’s book. Sam was well presented, in a fitted navy V-neck and black jeans, teamed with some classic black Cons. He had a nice physique, one that looked unfairly natural instead of earned by hours in the gym. Harry could see the attraction. It was his personality he was a bit unsure about.

Sam didn’t exactly _seem_ like an asshole, but there was something about his vibe that Harry didn’t quite like. A drop of jealousy and hesitance could’ve just been it on both of their parts, but there was definitely _something_. He came across as relatively intelligent and friendly enough, if not a little typical in his male-minded comments. He made it clear that Taylor was his, never failing to have a point of contact with her at all times. Harry told himself he’d do the same too, whether or not he was in a situation where his girl was introducing a new man into the club.

At some point in the night, thanks to some table shifting and bathroom breaks, Harry found himself alone with Karlie, which brought on a strange feeling of comfort considering he had only officially met her a few hours ago.

“So,” she smiled, her hands clasped and resting on the table. Designated driver, her glass of lemonade bubbled within her reach. “What do you think so far?”

“About what?” Harry replied a little stupidly without thought. Karlie didn’t seem to mind.

“About anything,” she prompted. “About tonight.”

“I think you’re all lovely,” he said kindly, the corner of his lips tugging up on one side as he glanced a couple of tables over to where Taylor was talking animatedly. When he looked back at Karlie he knew she’d picked up on it.

“Your mouth says all but your eyes say one in particular,” she teased, and Harry laughed it off.

“You _are_ stunning, Karlie.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What do you think of Sam?”

With the slow lick of her lips, her hesitation was obvious, and Harry wasn’t sure whether that meant her answer was bad or that she just didn’t feel it was their business to be talking about, because they both knew what he was really getting at.

“I like him,” she said simply. “And I can see why Taylor likes him, too.”

“Because of how he looks?”

Karlie shook her head. “Because she’s a hopeless romantic. As soon as she told me about how they met, I knew there was no way she wasn’t going to fall for him.”

Harry pondered that, his gaze shifting to where the couple were sitting. He missed the weirdly nervous look Karlie gave him, one that he wouldn’t understand and she would never explain.

“What do you think of him?” she asked instead.

“I don’t think he likes me,” he answered honestly.

“If she’s told him as much about you as she has me, I’m not surprised.”

Eyebrows raising, it was an undeniable ego boost to hear that he meant enough to Taylor that she would talk to her best friend about him. It made him feel better about how much he’d spilled to his own.

“She’s said good things, I hope.”

“Can you imagine her saying anything else?”

“I don’t know; she’s said some choice things about our landlord.”

“Your landlord deserves it.”

Harry smiled, taking a slow sip of his drink as Karlie kept talking.

“So, do all your tattoos have some kind of meaning? Taylor might’ve mentioned something about a massive butterfly above some nice abs and we’re understandably curious.”

He almost choked on his mouthful.

“Did she really say that?”

“In different words, yes,” Karlie said, which purposely heightened his curiosity.

“I won’t tell her if you tell me what she actually said,” he promised.

“I can’t say,” she decided.

“You can’t tell me that and then not deliver the proper details!”

“Oops!” she grinned, looking not at all apologetic.

Harry shook his head, smiling. “To answer your question, I just liked that one. Most of them are impulsive, really. I don’t think for, like, months before deciding on something. I just go for it.”

“Does that mean you end up regretting a lot?”

“Sort of. I’ve covered a couple up, so I guess you could say, like, I’ve regretted some choices.”

“When did you get your first?”

“When I was eighteen,” he answered, lifting up his arm and pointing at the star drawn on the underside of his bicep. “It was just an outline – got it coloured later. A couple of us lads went out to get some when we just started uni as, like, a rite of passage sort of thing, and that kind of started it all, really.”

She nodded intently. “Have you ever gotten one for someone else?”

“Um, well that was kind of one. There’s six of us, so there’s a point on the star for each of them,” he explained, moving on quickly before the cheesiness of it really set in. “I’ve got a couple for my sister. Her name’s Gemma, so yeah, I’ve got the ‘G’ here, and her name here. Um, a few of us have done a couple of designs on each other, though that probably doesn’t really count. I try not to get anything for anyone I’m in, like, a relationship with, in case it doesn’t work out. Which clearly nothing has, so it’s good I don’t have something like _‘I heart Caroline’_ permanently on my body.”

Karlie giggled at him, running her fingers through her hair and shaking it out. “Did you ever date a Caroline?”

“No, never,” he grinned.

“What if you found the one? Like you were gonna marry this girl – would you get a tattoo for her then?” she asked curiously.

“Probably,” he shrugged a little. “If she was into it, maybe we could get matching ones. I don’t know; I’m only twenty-two, I’m not really thinking of getting married any time soon.”

“Matching tattoos would be cute. I don’t think Josh and I would do it, though,” she said, glancing away to give her boyfriend a fond smile. As if he sensed it, he looked her way and grinned back at her. _He_ didn’t seem to have any concerns about her making friends with another guy.

“D’you think you’ll marry him?” Harry asked once their little moment was gone.

“Maybe,” she replied, the smile lingering on her face indicating her answer was a little more on the _yes_ side of things. “I’m not in any rush for that, though. He’s quite a bit older than me and he’s always respected the difference, so it’s good. Really, really good.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said genuinely.

Karlie nodded, her eyes this time drifting over to where Taylor was still sitting. Sam was leaning in to her, talking closer to her ear. Harry hadn’t the faintest idea what he was saying, but she wasn’t smiling. He guessed it must just be one of her concentrating faces.

“Taylor would probably do it,” Karlie thought, snapping them out of their stare. “If it was small and in an inconspicuous spot, I think you could convince her to get a matching tattoo. She’d never hear the end of it from her dad if he found out, but she’s very sentimental. If she was really in love, you could probably convince her it would be a sweet reflection of your eternal feelings for each other.”

The way she used ‘you’ sounded a little too personal; Harry was sure she meant it generally. Okay, half sure. He was stupidly half hoping she actually meant _him_ specifically, not that any of that had even crossed his mind.

Wisely, he directed it away from him: “Does Sam have any tattoos?”

“Not any that I know about. I think if he was going to do anything meaningful for Taylor, it wouldn’t be that, anyway.”

“What would he do, then?”

“Design them a house with a secret little hideaway that only they know about? Have their initials carved into a frame and mounted on one of the walls?” She gave a small laugh. “I don’t know.”

“Not nearly romantic enough,” Harry decided, smiling and sitting a little straighter as he drank the last of what was in his glass. “If it were me, we’d carve our initials together in the biggest tree in our back garden. That way it’s more permanent, you know? Someone might come along and change the house later on, but a tree’s going to stay the same. Whoever moves in next will see it and wonder about who wrote it and what their story is.”

Karlie smiled back at him, enthralled. “You’re really sweet. It’s no wonder she’s so happy she met you.”

“She said that?”

“No, but I just assumed.”

They grinned at each other. Harry wasn’t stupid enough not to realise she was revealing all this for a reason. He just hadn’t figured out what exactly it was yet.

He didn’t get a chance to hear more since with another shift, they gained a few heads at the table, ones who weren’t in the interest of dropping any more intriguing insights into what went on in his neighbour’s head.

Instead he learnt more about her friends, like how Teo was studying fashion and wanted to borrow Karlie to showcase some of his new designs as soon as he asked another girl, Sarah, to take the photos. Teo’s jaw practically dropped to the floor when Harry told him he might be able to get a feature on him in a magazine.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am not.”

“You’re fucking with me ‘cause you’re new.”

“I work for a magazine. I’m a journalist.”

“Jesus fucking Christ– Taylor! I’m stealing your friend for myself!”

Harry started telling him about _A.N.Y._ (which he’d actually heard of! And read!), promising to tell Mallory about him on Monday. They swapped details, wonder on Teo’s face as he assured Harry he’d send him some of his work pronto. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he got a message later that night.

With only two members having already left, Harry wasn’t exactly expecting to be in the next group to go. If he was honest, he didn’t really _want_ to. He was enjoying himself, enjoying the company and experience of meeting new people. He’d forgotten why he’d been apprehensive to come in the first place. But since his ride back home was leaving, he didn’t really have a choice.

They said their goodbyes, Harry’s mostly short and polite with “nice to meet you”s. He didn’t have any of the hugging that was going on between Taylor and Karlie and the rest of the group; he stood to the side, next to Josh as they waited.

“Happens every time,” Josh said, smiling as he watched the girls draw out their departure.

The last hug was, in Harry’s opinion, the worst. For all the things he’d heard through his bedroom wall, he didn’t really _need_ to see Sam with his hand on Taylor’s ass and his tongue down her throat, and Sam was aware of that, which was exactly why he did it. If it weren’t for the quick moment of smirking eye contact beforehand, Harry wouldn’t have given a second thought as to why this was happening _right in front of him_. He averted his eyes hastily, landing on Karlie’s, where he learnt the most interesting thing he’d discovered all night.

She mouthed it at him, quick not to be noticed though clear enough for him to still be able to read.

_“He’s shit in bed.”_

_Well._


	2. Chapter Two

Harry did the worst thing he had ever done on the second Wednesday of April.

In his defence, he’d thought about it before but had talked himself out of it every time since it really was a big _no_. It was inappropriate and unnecessary and he knew he’d think of it whenever he saw her next, would probably have a flashing sign above him letting her know what he’d done. He’d touch her with his hand or she’d sit on his bed on that exact spot, and all he’d feel was disgusting shame and guilt for the thing he really should not do.

Apparently dealing with his raging hormones was a more pressing issue than all that.

When Harry was almost asleep the night before, on the edge of pleasantly drifting off, he’d heard the all too familiar sound of a headboard bumping against the wall. He’d fumbled for his headphones and pretended that he couldn’t hear Taylor sleeping with her boyfriend next door while he was stupidly leaving himself hopelessly sex-less.

While he managed to drown out the noise with some tunes, the thought of it wormed its way into his dreams, and when he woke up on Wednesday he was worked up and wishing he was the one on the other side of the wall.

He liked to think if he couldn’t hear the shower running next door and didn’t have quite the mental image, he wouldn’t have reached for the tub of Vaseline in his bedside drawer and gotten himself off like the horrible horny friend he was.

He knew that was a lie.

With a tissue to clean himself up a few regretful minutes later, Harry muttered to himself as he went to the bathroom, making sure he was totally aware how capital ‘W’ _Wrong_ it was to physically fantasize about a friend, no matter how gorgeous they definitely would look without clothes on.

He was also aware he was now going to spend the rest of the day, probably the rest of his _life_ , riddled with guilt. Checking his phone after grabbing some breakfast didn’t help, either.

 **Text: from _Taylor_  
>>** _Olivia has NO chill today [IMG]_

The attached photo featured a long red scratch along her thigh, her pyjama shorts sitting high to show it all off. Olivia had no chill, alright. Neither did Harry, who disturbingly first thought he’d like to get in between those legs.

He _really_ needed to get a handle on this. (Not a hand. No hands on anything.)

With a casual reply back, Harry attempted to set his mind to something more professional. On his day away from the office, he had an interview in a café set up with a local girl by the name of Chiffon. They were having lunch downtown; he Googled the directions again now as he chewed on his toast. It was going to take him ages to get there.

At least he knew she wasn’t shit. Unlike most of the tracks he received, Chiffon’s had arrived to him via snail mail, sealed in a crisp white envelope and addressed in tall block letters. The CD inside had a sticker on the case with just her name on it, printed in pink marker. The five tracks on it had an alternative vibe, reminded him of The Japanese House. Even if he didn’t put her in this issue, he was sure he could slide her into another one.

He took his time getting ready. He liked to look good on the daily, but even more so when he was doing something important like this. His outfit of choice was a pair of classic black skinnies, a beige paisley shirt and a dark-wash jacket. He had his laptop and a notebook stuffed into his tan shoulder bag, incidentally matching his pair of boots. He also ran a bit of product into his hair to make his curls a little plumper, though he wasn’t about to announce that part of the process to anyone.

Taylor worked on Wednesday’s and despite the café being a detour from the bookstore, she insisted on giving him a ride. “It looks like it’s going to rain,” she’d texted, unnecessary storm cloud emojis added at the end. They’d get a shower at most – nothing he couldn’t handle.

Harry wanted to avoid her, at least for the day, but he couldn’t say no. He didn’t _want_ to say no. He wanted to be wrapped up in her–

Never mind.

Lingering in the hallway, Harry lent against the opposing wall as he waited for Taylor. He played with one of the zips on his bag, trying to remind himself that there was no way she would be able to tell what he’d done. It wasn’t any of her business, technically. He could think about screwing whoever he wanted and the only one who had to know was him.

That made him feel a little better, but thankfully the whole thing disappeared from his mind when the door to number 44 opened, anyway.

“Hey!” Taylor called enthusiastically, fiddling to lock her apartment behind her. “Just a sec–”

Harry took that second to glance over her tartan skirt and the black stockings covering her legs. She had on a pair of cute ankle boots, making her at eye level when she turned around.

When she walked over and pulled him into a hug, he wisely tried to focus more on her compliment of, “Your hair looks amazing today!” rather than the rad feeling of her boobs pressing against his chest.

“It smells really nice too,” she added as she pulled away, giggling as their eyes met.

“Hair sniffer,” he teased, making her laugh more with that and the cheeky poke of her side.

“Don’t start,” she warned. Taylor, he’d learnt with a playful jab one afternoon, was ticklish, and didn’t like having that taken advantage of. He since hadn’t tried anything major… yet.

They took to the stairs, beginning their descent to the ground level and out to her car.

“You really look like someone who would work in a bookshop,” Harry commented, and Taylor looked at him with a small smile, self-consciously smoothing at her already neat hair. She wore a thin headband with a little bow on it, which he hadn’t thought anyone over ten could really pull off, but she did. Of course she did.

“That’s a compliment, right? You don’t mean I look like a nerd or something?”

“You look cute,” he smiled.

“Thanks for saying that.”

On their way, Taylor asked about the girl he was interviewing. She hadn’t heard of her, unsurprisingly, and Harry gave her what details he could. One of the things he had found with talking to Taylor was that she didn’t seem to just make conversation out of politeness, but because she was actually curious about what he had to say. It seemed only fitting that her career choice was going to have her initiating discussions and passing on knowledge.

By the time they made it to the café, his morning’s inappropriate slip up seemed to be safely tucked away in the very back of his mind, and instead of wanting to get away from her, Harry was wishing his planned lunch was with Taylor instead. But he had a job to do, and he could hardly skip out on it.

“Are you alright getting home again?” Taylor checked before he got out the car.

“Yeah,” he replied. He hadn’t really thought about it, though he guessed he’d walk like he had originally planned.

“Call the store if you need anything – I’ll text you the number.”

“Thanks, Taylor.”

“Have fun!”

On the sidewalk, Harry watched Taylor merge back onto the road, joining the rest going about their days. He headed off past the few shopfronts that already had cars parked out the front until he reached the chosen café, a few of the outdoor tables already occupied despite the possibility of later rain. He’d arranged to meet Chiffon at one of the tables by the window; looking inside he only saw one taken by an older man reading a newspaper, so he sat at another and started getting himself ready. He liked being a little early to pull out his notebook and pen, switch his phone to silent and compose himself. He worried about not being taken seriously because of his age, but mostly that was needless. He’d always been treated with respect in the interviews he conducted, and with Chiffon today that was no different.

“Excuse me?”

Harry glanced up from a random few lines of scribbling to see the younger face of a girl in a black trench coat staring down at him. It took him a moment to respond with more than that, too taken aback by the unexpected shade of her hair and the sweet elfishness of her features.

“Chiffon?” he asked, almost disappointed by the nod of her head. Apparently today was the day of wrongfully wishing for things he couldn’t have.

“I’m Harry Styles, ‘s nice to meet you,” he introduced himself, extending his hand out and shaking hers. He knew she already knew his name – she’d kindly included it on the envelope and on her short note inside, instead of only addressing it to the magazine. He’d appreciated that.

“Thanks for having me,” Chiffon replied. She took her coat off and hung it on the back of the chair opposite him before sitting down, running her palms over the shirt of her stripy dress. She had it buttoned all the way to the top, the black collar sitting neatly around her neck. He liked it.

“I didn’t think I was going to hear from you,” she admitted. “I almost, like, passed out when I got your email.”

Harry gave a small laugh. “I’m _really_ not important enough for you to be passing out over, but I’m flattered. And a little concerned.”

“I’m fully conscious right now,” she assured him with a sweet smile. “Is this actually going to be in the magazine? Like, _I’m_ going to be in _A.N.Y._?”

“I liked your songs, so, um, yeah. I haven’t decided yet if it’ll be this issue or a later one, though. Are you okay with me holding onto your CD and any notes for a bit if I need to?”

Chiffon nodded profusely. “Absolutely! I just can’t believe you’re actually doing this for me. My best friend’s mom reads it – mostly for the food section – and I picked it up one day a few years ago at their house and started buying it for myself. I’ve got every issue since, like, 2013.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, impressed. He hadn’t even heard of _A.N.Y._ until last year. “Quite the dedication. Why do you like it?”

“Because it’s _different._ You can’t find one magazine that offers all the things that _A.N.Y._ does. I like learning about lots of different things without having to commit to buying a magazine that specializes in one area. You get a taste of everything this way.” She licked her pastel lips slowly. “Why do _you_ like it?”

He paused for a moment, not so much in thought of _his_ answer but of hers. The variety of _A.N.Y._ had always appealed to him – it seemed practical to have something that catered to a wider range of tastes. He liked the idea that he was a part of the creation of something that people both younger and older could enjoy. He liked making people think, making them feel, making them _happy_. All he wanted was to give something back.

“I like writing about something I’m interested in. I worked as an assistant in London before I came here, so it’s a very lucky step up for me,” he told her, his reply more standard than the depth that went on in his head. “D’you want to order something to eat before we really get into this?”

They went up to the counter, scanning the menu board fixed up on the wall. Chiffon had been here before and didn’t take long to decide on a tuna salad sandwich. Harry ordered a Greek salad and an iced tea.

When they were seated again, now with a shiny number 11 marking their table, Harry took to the compliment that was resting on the tip of his tongue.

“Your hair is a stunning colour,” he told her. “It’s a very delicious-looking colour, actually. Like fairy floss.”

Chiffon twisted a strand of her candy pink hair around her finger. Her nail polish, painted a shade darker, had a chip in the corner.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him; she’d heard something along those lines countless times before. “That’s why I chose it.”

“It suits you very well.” He picked up his pen, tapping it on the open page of his notebook. “Can I ask how old you are?”

A nervousness suddenly took over her, and she looked at him regretfully as she said, “Seventeen…”

Harry shifted in his chair, frowning a little. “Should you be in school right now?”

“Yeah, but, I don’t–” She sighed. “I just wanted this opportunity.”

“We could’ve done a weekend.”

“Shit,” she laughed a bit. “I work most weekends, anyway. It doesn’t really matter – I won’t miss much and my mom knows where I am.”

“Okay. Okay, cool,” he gave a small smile, relieved that he hadn’t completely captured a student for the day and set their future up for failure. In fact, he was giving it a push in the right direction. “So, can you tell me a bit about yourself?”

As Chiffon started talking, telling him about her interests (reading, history, music – _duh_ ), her school, her friends, her family, her inspirations, and perhaps most importantly, her aspirations, it became clear to Harry that underestimating her in any way would be a mistake. She was a girl who knew where she wanted to go and she was trying hard to get there – she planned on getting a music degree from NYU, played at open mic nights wherever she could get in for some experience, had found some friends who helped her in recording some demos. Sending a CD into _A.N.Y._ was something impulsive outside her plan, but was potentially turning out to be the best thing she’d done to kick her career up a notch. She could get herself some decent exposure with even just a small mention in the magazine.

It was basically a stupid question when Harry asked, “Would you be interested in a photo shoot for, like, a proper feature on you?”

“Are you fucking serious?!” Chiffon squealed, quick to correct and compose herself: “I mean, are you serious?”

He grinned, nodding. “I think you’re intriguing, and I think a lot of other people will too. I can definitely see you making it someday.”

“Thank you so much,” she gasped; he didn’t realise quite how much it meant to her to hear him say that. He didn’t understand his influence.

“I do want to run something by you first,” he continued on, Chiffon staring at him with wide eyed attention. “The theme for the next issue is ‘façade’. I don’t want you to think that, like, I think you’re fake. You’ve shown that you’re a very ambitious and genuine person, and I just think that, umm… You know, I think you want to have a bit of a different personality when you’re a musician. You can be very personal in your lyrics if you want to be, but, like, when you’re on stage and in videos and stuff you sometimes have to put on another side of yourself. Something more confident, or whatever. D’you know what I mean?”

She nodded quickly, to his relief.

“That’s how I’m taking the idea. Not like someone’s lying, but that sometimes you’ve got to be a bit of an actor to be a musician. Do you feel like you do that?”

“I don’t feel seventeen when I’m on stage,” she confirmed. “I feel confident and outgoing and strong and captivating and a little bit sexy, and that’s not how I feel every other minute of my life. I don’t have a whole lot of life experience, but I think I can convince an audience that what I’m singing about is real to me.”

“What I was curious about is how you just wrote ‘Chiffon’ on your CD. You dropped your last name and, to me, that felt more like you were creating a music personality for yourself. You could separate your professional life and your personal life more easily when you don’t have everyone calling you the full name you grew up with.”

Chiffon gave him an impressed smile. “You’ve thought that through more than I have,” she told him, and he looked at her with a bit of surprise. “Chiffon Beauregard doesn’t have that famous ring to it. I wanted something simple, and my first name isn’t exactly common. If Beyonce and Adele and Madonna can pull it off, so can I.”

She shrugged, and Harry tried not to laugh. Her bright and buoyant personality was one he really liked.

“So, just to be clear, you’re not going to be offended by being in this issue?”

“Nope. I think people who read it are smart enough to get what you mean.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he grinned. “Will you be able to do be a favour and email me a picture or two of yourself? Maybe like a portrait and a full length shot – I just want to pass it on to Mallory so she can start organizing the styling and stuff. Can you include your sizes in it, too, if you don’t mind?”

“I’d be happy to,” she agreed readily. “I’ve never done something like this before.”

“It’ll be fun,” he promised. “Probably a little overwhelming your first time, but it’ll be good for you. I’ll have to check schedules first, but I’ll give you a couple dates to pick from. It’ll be pretty soon, if that’s okay?”

“Totally! I’m totally up for this. Thank you so, so much.”

“Thank _you_ for sending in your demo.”

They wrapped up their meet up with further pleasantries, plans to talk and see each other later. Chiffon’s day – week, month, _year_ – had been made in the short time they had just spent together. This was a huge deal for her, and after they parted ways, Harry looked back over his shoulder to see her sitting on a wooden bench, talking animatedly on her phone. It gave him a weird kind of thrill to know that he was responsible for the excitement she was feeling.

With the rest of the day ahead of him, Harry thought it a waste to go straight home and spend it confined by his four walls. There wasn’t anything to do there, but he could find something to pass the time out here.

Wandering down the street, Harry navigated his way by the faint image of Google maps in his memory. He couldn’t really get himself too lost, as long as he could recall the blocks he’d been on.

With more cafés and restaurants dotted around, this area was filled with small boutiques of labels he’d never heard of. He browsed a few of the stores, finding it nice just to take some time to look at things, whether he needed them or not. Maybe he just liked the time alone, where he didn’t have to think much about himself, but about what other people had created.

He managed to kill just over an hour walking around, only picking up a couple of things on his way. If he’d had a little less self-control, he would’ve come out of one vintage store with a navy blazer printed with tiny flamingos. _“I don’t have matching pants,”_ he repeated to himself as he walked away from the $200 price tag (it was designer), but not before taking a photo on his phone to send to Mallory, honestly in the hope she would buy it rather than lend it for a photo shoot and pass it onto him afterwards as a surprise. Mallory did like dressing him, after all.

Finding a bench to rest on, he did a quick check of his emails (nothing urgent) before pulling the candle he’d bought out of its paper bag and inspecting the label again. Having stumbled upon a naturalist shop, Harry had spent a while browsing around inside; he liked the smell of incense in the air. On one wall they had shelves full of candles, all different colours and scents and sizes. It had taken him ages to decide on one to try. In the end he chose a rose scent that came in a pastel pink wax, figuring he certainly couldn’t go wrong with such a classic option. He’d been trying to ignore that a certain blonde had been the inspiration, but that was always going to be futile, wasn’t it?

Harry wondered what Taylor was up to now. It was still a couple hours before closing, and he wasn’t even sure she was staying until then. There was plenty of time for him to talk himself out of his impulsive idea, but as soon as he pressed dial on Karlie’s contact in his phone (he’d gotten her number on the way home that weekend out) he couldn’t back out.

“Can I ask you a weird favour?”

“Depends how weird it is.”

“Can you tell me the address of the bookstore Taylor works at?”

There was a pause of a smile Harry couldn’t see. “And why would you need that?”

“I… need a book?” he offered. Harry held his breath and exhaled it in a laugh when Karlie started chuckling.

“Well that’s good, ‘cause Taylor won’t let you leave until she’s found you something she thinks you’ll like.”

“I’m happy with that.”

“I take it since you’re asking me, you’re trying to surprise her?” Karlie guessed.

“Is that a bad idea?” he asked warily.

“Of course not.”

“Is it too much? I’ve already seen her today–”

“Don’t overthink it,” she interrupted. “I’ll text you the address, okay? Have some fun.”

As it turned out, the bookstore wasn’t that hard to get to, with the directions his maps app provided fairly straightforward. It was quite the distance, though, but so was the apartment. The decision was practically made for him.

On his way, Harry drifted in and out of a few more stores that caught his interest, taking the opportunity while he was around this part of town. He found a coffee shop when he was close to his red destination arrow, and he stopped to pick up two. “I just wanted to give you this,” he’d say casually, as if she were a pit stop on his way home. Yeah, that’d be smooth.

Smooth, however, wasn’t the word to describe the awkward fix of his hair with a coffee tray balancing in one hand and shopping bags in the other. When his reflection in the window let him know he looked fine, Harry sauntered inside, nose immediately filled with the glorious smell of new books. There were rows and rows of shelves, holding everything from classics to cooking to crime. You could spend hours inspecting it all properly, coming away with armfuls of books you _had_ to have. It was any reader’s dream.

The assistant at the counter was an older woman who was busy chatting with a customer. It would be just Harry’s luck if he had showed up when Taylor was on her break, but as he started scouring the aisles, he was relieved to find that wasn’t the case.

Kneeling down beside a little girl, the blonde was scanning the bottom of the children’s section while talking in a bubbly tone. It was quiet in the store, a gentle instrumental tune playing low through the speakers, and Harry could hear her telling the girl about the kind of stories she used to like at her age. He watched on with affection, smiling to himself as she interacted with the child so naturally. She picked out a picture book with a purple cover and handed it over with an encouraging “Wanna go show your mom?” The little girl clutched it to her chest and totted off after a courteous thank you. Taylor watched her bounce away, giggling.

It was when she stood back up that she noticed Harry.

Eyes widening in shock, Taylor skipped over in a style not unlike the little girl she’d just helped. “Harry!” she sang, careful not to bump the tray of drinks in his hand as she pulled him into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just in the neighbourhood,” he grinned.

“Liar,” she laughed. “You got me coffee?”

“No, actually, I’m just really thirsty,” he teased, revelling in the way Taylor crinkled her nose and tilted her head back as she tried not to laugh again. “I got vanilla lattes, I hope that’s alright.”

“Aww, I love those, thank you.” Taylor carefully took one of the cups out and warmed her hands. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

She smiled at him gratefully. “How did the interview go?”

“Great, actually,” he beamed. “She’s a really nice girl, very natural. D’you know she has pink hair?”

“No way,” she gasped. “That’s so cool.”

“She’s still in high school, too. She seems to be doing pretty well for herself; I wouldn’t be surprised if she got a proper CD out there soon.”

“Well you’re definitely increasing her chances.”

Taking a careful sip of her coffee, Taylor winced as the hot liquid hit her tongue. Harry stifled a giggle.

“How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good,” she replied cheerfully, nodding as if she hadn’t just made the mistake of drinking too soon. “Do you wanna come meet my boss?”

“Um, alright?” he agreed with a little nervous laugh. That wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting, but maybe he needed to start learning that Taylor wasn’t the expected.

Leading him over to the register, Taylor rested her forearms on top of the counter casually. Harry couldn’t help but notice how she held all her weight on one leg, the other bent at the knee with the toe of her boot pressed to the carpet keeping her balanced. It was a simple gesture, the girlishness of it only seeming to accentuate how sweet she was. Harry took the few extra steps to stand next to her before anyone noticed he was watching.

“This is my friend Harry – you know the one I was telling you about?” Taylor introduced him to the woman on the opposite side of the counter. He offered her a friendly smile that hopefully disguised the leaping feeling he got from hearing Taylor say that. “Harry, this is Pam; she owns the store.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said as he went to shake her hand politely. “This is a lovely shop you have here; it’s got, like, a warm vibe. Quite comforting.”

Pam glanced at Taylor, whose cheeks reddened when Pam beamed, “He _is_ charming, isn’t he?”

“Sure is,” Taylor agreed in mumbled embarrassment, avoiding Harry’s dimpled grin that fixed on her with intrigue that only seemed to be growing.

“Thank you, Harry,” Pam smiled back at him warmly. “Do you read much?”

“Um, I wouldn’t say I read a whole lot, but I do like reading when I have the time, yeah,” he answered with a small shrug. “’s nice to have a quiet one in with a good book.”

“I could help you find one now,” Taylor offered, a convenient getaway from the conversation she hadn’t anticipated was going to embarrass her.

“I’d like that,” Harry took it up genuinely. He would do anything she wanted, really. It was dangerous what infatuation could do to a person’s reason if they didn’t keep it in check.

Harry followed along behind Taylor after kindly letting Pam know it was nice to meet her, which was expectedly well received. They passed between the shelves, Taylor taking him over to the biography section. She started scanning the rows, and he probably should’ve been doing the same instead of looking at her again.

“I’m sure I saw this the other day…” Taylor muttered to herself, running her finger along the spines of one row of books. She kneeled down to get a better look at the bottom shelves and Harry naturally did the same.

“Did you really tell her I was charming?” he whispered impulsively with the illusion of privacy thanks to the wall of books in front of them.

Taylor glanced at him in a little surprise, a small guilty smile tugging at her lips. “Are you gonna make fun of me for it? ‘Cause in that case I take it back.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Do you really expect me to believe people haven’t been calling you charming your entire life?” She looked at him doubtfully. “People don’t just become these things overnight. Do you think I woke up one day and just decided to try to be kind to everyone, or do you think I learnt that that made a good person when I was young and it’s just a part of who I am now?”

Harry considered it. “You’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Taylor smiled. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

She pulled out a book a moment later, taking him out of his satisfied bubble as she held it out to him. He took it in his free hand, nodding as he looked over the cover.

“Keith Richards,” he read.

“Someone took our Mick Jagger the other day,” she told him, eyeing him hopefully. “You look a lot like he did when he was young, y’know?”

Taylor reached out and lifted a lock of his hair, and he laughed as it swung back down against his cheek.

“It’s been mentioned to me a few times, yeah.”                                                        

“It’s _destiny_ ,” Taylor grinned, standing back up and glancing over her shoulder. “Can I show you some more of our music books?”

Like he was going to say no.

They crossed over to another aisle and browsed the music section, Taylor pulling out a couple more books she thought he would like. Harry read the blurbs and struggled not to get too fixated on them all, since going home with a stack of books hadn’t exactly been on his agenda. He ended up settling on the first she’d chosen and one profiling the 90’s. He could always come back for more another time, especially since the salesgirl was so _lovely_.

“Do you wanna go for dinner after we close?” Taylor asked him once she had rung up his items. “As a thank you for coming all the way here with coffee.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Harry assured her, though he was thrilled by the offer.

“Come on, dinner is totally our thing!” Taylor insisted with a convincing smile. They knew each other well enough to have a thing? Nice.

“Alright, but what am I supposed to do until then?”

“Well, you’ve got reading material. I can give you my keys and you can hang out in my car, if you want?”

“Strange offer, but I’ll take it,” Harry chuckled. It beat having to kill time by lurking around aimlessly.

After Taylor ducked into a back room to grab her car keys, she gave him directions to the parking lot and bid him goodbye with a cute little wave. Harry left feeling pretty good with himself. He’d certainly made up for the morning, right?

The lot was only around the corner and it didn’t take him too long to find her car. Opting for the back seat, Harry climbed inside and leaned back against one of the doors. He locked himself inside and sipped at his coffee, his legs stretched out in front of him across the seats. It was a decent spot to chill, even if it was a bit weird to be sitting in someone else’s car like that.

While the temptation was there, Harry decided against taking advantage of Taylor’s trust by snooping around the interior. It looked like she kept it pretty clean, anyway – there wouldn’t be much to find. Instead he sent his friends back home a simple picture of him in the car, which was met with doubts that it was even hers until he challenged them with a photo of her keys: only the girl he had described would have a small cat figurine and a tiny secure bottle of fairy dust chained to their keyring (super cute, by the way).

Once he finished his coffee and set the empty cup in amongst his things on the floor, Harry started flipping through the pictures in one of his new books. He loved music photography: he loved being able to see the raw passion of someone on stage doing what they loved. He started to wish he had bought the coffee table book Taylor had showed him instead, but then again he would’ve been down an extra $60 and that wasn’t exactly favourable. _Another time,_ he reminded himself.

Harry hadn’t realised he had drifted off until he was startled awake by an unexpected loud tapping on one of the windows. He jumped, eyes opening wide as he quickly tried to find his bearings. The book was precariously resting open on his chest and he had sunken down so he was lying on his back, a crook in his neck from where his head had rested against the door. His gaze darted to the window opposite him where he saw a very amused blonde with a hand covering her mouth staring back at him.

Sitting up and unlocking the doors, Taylor was yet to contain her laughter as he shuffled back to give her room to climb inside.

“That was the funniest thing, oh my god; you freaked out so hard!” she teased him as she sat down facing him, carelessly tossing her bag in the front. “I almost wish you hadn’t done the right thing by locking the doors – I could’ve scared you so much better than that.”

“How, exactly?” he asked while rubbing his eyes. Harry was no stranger to people messing with him while he was asleep: as someone who could doze off easily in just about anywhere, he was a pretty easy target. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had been frightened awake, and living in a dorm with a bunch of lively lads had meant he had been the victim of many other pranks. As unpleasant as it could be, he kind of missed it.

“Oh, lay back down, lay back down!” Taylor instructed, far too excited about the idea.

Harry did as he was told only out of curiosity, though it was harder to manoeuvre with the two of them in the car now. Taylor told him to close his eyes again, and he could feel her climbing on top of him. She was careful not to lean on him too much: she kept her balance with one knee on the floor, her other resting just above his hip and her hands either side of his head. She could feel her moving in closer, the heat of her body more recognisable the closer she got. Aside from the obvious hint of her fringe dangling down and tickling him, Harry could sense her face only inches from his and it was like some fantastic fantasy was actually playing out for real.

Except for when she screamed. That was kind of a mood killer.

“I would’ve fucking killed you if you’d done that,” Harry said with a laugh as he opened his eyes to find her blue ones looking down at him in delight.

“Yeah, if anyone did that to me I’d feel the same,” Taylor admitted, grinning as she pushed herself up and shifted to sit on him more comfortably. “I promise I’ll never actually do that. I’m not that mean.”

“Glad to hear it.”

While she tucked her hair behind her ear, a movement outside caught Taylor’s attention. Her eyes widened and she squealed as she quickly laid back down on top of him, which was a surprise that Harry obviously wasn’t opposed to. He still gave her a questioning hum.

“There’s someone getting in the car next to us and they looked at me funny,” she explained, her voice lowered as if the person would be able to hear her otherwise.

Harry smirked a little. “And you laying on me is less compromising?”

“Shut up.”

They stayed like that for a little too long. Harry didn’t know where it was okay to put his hands so he left them safely as his sides, while Taylor comfortably rested her head on his shoulder. She probably wouldn’t stay that way if she knew what was going on in his mind.

Once she was definitely sure the other car was gone, Taylor pushed herself back up and smiled at him, the apple of her cheeks a little bit pinker than before.

“So… Wanna find something to eat?”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“She’s a natural,” Mallory gushed on set the following week. They were in the studio Camryn and a few of her photographer friends shared, working on Harry’s feature on Chiffon. An hour of hair and make-up had led to the shoot, and a half hour in and she was already showing promise of someone who could easily work with others creatively.

“Shame she doesn’t have the height – she’s got an interesting face that’s perfect for this,” Mallory added as she and Harry looked on in the background while Camryn directed Chiffon in front of a white backdrop they were going to colour in editing later.

“Oh, you’re going to _love_ Karlie,” Harry grinned at her assuredly. “Six foot one of pure beauty.”

Mallory grabbed his arm and fanned herself with her other hand dramatically. “I’ve already got a tear in my eye.”

They chuckled, Mallory giving a friendly lean into him so their shoulders bumped. Ever since she had been painstakingly disappointed with her genetics in the height department, falling a cruel inch short of what any agency was after, Mallory had thrown everything she had into this side of the fashion world. She was a fantastic stylist with her eye for detail, a great writer with an unbelievable memory that could recount collection after collection without ever confusing between seasons or designers. It was amazing, honestly.

“When are you going to get in front of the camera for me?” she asked, turning her head to him with her best winning smile.

“I’ve told you, it’s not going to happen,” he reminded her, though if she kept bringing it up with that smile of hers, he might just cave.

“When I find the perfect piece, I guarantee you’ll change your mind,” Mallory assured him confidently, and yeah, he had to admit he would be more inclined to go through with it if she found him the perfect outfit. He still didn’t understand why she was so insistent on it, though. She had contacts to _real_ models at her fingertips – she didn’t need him.

Harry didn’t even really need to be here today, either. The concept for the shoot had already been planned between the three of them days in advance, he had already seen the pieces Mallory had chosen, and Camryn was going to email him her favourite shots that night for confirmation before she started editing. He had already spoken to Chiffon over the phone and gotten everything he needed, so really, he was only there pretending that his presence held some kind of importance. In other words, he was procrastinating everything else he could be doing.

Really, though, he felt today was more significant than the other few shoots he had organised in his short time at _A.N.Y._ They had all had experience in front of the camera, but this was Chiffon’s first with someone who wasn’t just an amateurish friend. This was a pivotal point for her.

Plus, she was cute, and he got to keep his cute co-worker company as well – of course he wanted to come.

It was an easy few hours for Harry. He spent it chilling with Mallory at his side, tucking into some pizza when they broke for lunch, and enjoying getting to learn more about Chiffon. She was an interesting girl, that one. Harry found himself wishing he had had her drive when he was her age. Maybe he could’ve actually ended up on that same path like he always fantasized.

Not that he didn’t enjoy his job now, of course. It just wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting he would end up going into.

“Are you doing anything on Saturday?” Mallory wondered when they were starting to wrap up the day. Camryn had a ton of great shots they could use, more than they really needed. They could leave knowing they’d had a successful day’s work.

“I don’t think so, no,” Harry answered as he helped her sort the accessories she had brought for the shoot back into her sectioned container. “What’ve you got in mind?”

“I’m in need of a Sephora,” she smiled up at him naturally. “And I need someone to help with my story. Would you mind?”

“Course not,” he agreed easily. “Just let me know where and when you want to meet, yeah?”

Mallory nodded, pleased she could count on him to come through for her. Most of the other guys they worked with weren’t so willing, not quite getting fashion the way that she did. If he was honest, Harry didn’t think he was really in the know either, but he was conscious of his own style and that seemed to help.

While they let Chiffon change back into her own clothes in the partition that sectioned off part of the studio as a ‘dressing room’, they neatened the photography area back to its neutral state for the next person to use it. Harry was given the task of heavy lifting, since he’d hardly done anything all day and it gave the girls a chance to peek at the nice muscles in his arms in action. He shifted the lights aside off of the backdrop and moved the solid cubes they had stacked artfully earlier for Chiffon to sit on as something different back to their spot against one of the walls. Camryn’s two assistants left after making sure all the equipment was switched off and stored away, and it didn’t take long for Mallory to pack the last of the outfits back into her case.

“I found a M.A.C. lipstick under the table – Emma’s not going to be happy,” Mallory noted as she wheeled her suitcase out to meet the three of them still hanging around waiting to leave, waving the tube in question that their make-up artist had left behind hours ago. “Gorgeous colour, too. It would’ve looked great on you.”

Chiffon smiled at the compliment, though she was happier with her classic candy pink rather than the berry stain Mallory was showing off. She had been put in all pastels all day and it fit her aesthetic perfectly.

With the studio safely locked behind them, Mallory and Camryn took the lead down the stairs to the ground floor, Harry trailing a little further back with Chiffon.

“Did you like that?” he asked her curiously.

“It was amazing,” Chiffon beamed brightly. “Thank you so much again.”

Harry shook his head. “You earned it. Besides, when you end up a star, I can pretend that I discovered you,” he teased, flashing her a dimpled grin and making her laugh.

“You can say that if you want,” she allowed in amusement. “What about you? Do you make music or do you just enjoy writing about it?”

“I–”

“He’s a great singer,” Mallory chimed in, apparently listening to their conversation. “He’s like _A.N.Y._ ’s personal vocalist.”

“I think that’s taking it a little bit far,” he disagreed.

“Please, I’m betting that if you leave any time soon it’s because you realise your true calling and find the stage,” she said matter-of-factly. “If you weren’t covered in those tattoos, it would be the runway instead.”

“Mal, I love you, but your aspirations for me are full of shit.”

Mallory blew a kiss at him over her shoulder, looking pretty pleased with herself as she wisely looked back at where she was going. Perhaps ‘love’ hadn’t been the best way to put it.

They parted ways when they entered out onto the street. Camryn and Mallory headed off in opposite directions down the sidewalk, while Harry kindly checked that Chiffon had a safe way home.

“My mom’s picking me up,” she told him.

He didn’t need to, but Harry decided to wait with her so she wasn’t lingering around by herself. They talked some more music until a car pulled up and beeped their horn for her.

“Thanks again for everything, Harry,” Chiffon expressed her gratitude again. “I can’t wait to see the issue. This really is, like, a dream come true.”

“You’re very welcome, Chiffon,” Harry grinned a dimpled smile at her. “Good luck with everything. I really hope to hear more from you.”

“Would it be weird if I asked if I could hug you?”

Harry laughed, opening his arms and letting the smaller girl step into them. It was sweet; he felt a bit like an older brother. He truly did wish the best for her.

Waving her off, Harry dug his headphones out of his pocket and headed for the bus stop further down the road. The opening of ‘Pumped Up Kicks’ filled his ears as he walked; he left his music on shuffle as he waited the twenty minutes for the bus to come, turned it up a little too loud when he eventually got on. At least nobody was yelling at anyone like they had been on his ride in the morning.

The closest stop to his apartment was a block over. Harry meandered back in no rush; he often liked going for walks just to clear his head in the therapeutic fresh air. When he made it back to his place, he traded his jeans for a pair of shorts and his boots for some Nikes before heading back out. Harry went for a run at the nearest oval, made use of the track that was marked out on the grass for the middle school it was next to. His bun bobbed at the back of his head with every step and he felt good. The oxygen in his lungs and the work of his muscles was natural, healthy. It felt like the perfect way to end a successful day, only when he returned to his flat he still had one niggling thought that Mallory and Chiffon had brought back into his mind.

_What if he had still chosen wrong?_

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

Eggs. He was missing eggs.

After quite the Saturday out around town, trawling through endless stores while eating macarons and fielding Mallory’s questionnaire that apparently helped her with her work, Harry hadn’t thought to stop by a supermarket while he was out, nor did he want to now that it was almost dark and he was about to start something for dinner. The obvious solution was to change his dinner plan, but he _really_ wanted that omelette after seeing someone dining on one in a café he and Mallory had passed earlier in the day.

He couldn’t very well make an omelette without any eggs. Harry pouted around the kitchen for a few minutes, alternating between staring into the fridge and the cupboard for some other inspiration. Nothing he had all the ingredients for was enticing him.

And then it hit him.

He had a neighbour. A _nice_ neighbour. A nice neighbour who would happily do him a favour.

Without bothering to put any shoes over his socked feet, Harry grabbed his keys off the dining table where he had unceremoniously dumped the few shopping bags he had been destined to return with from the very moment Mallory had suggested the day out. He headed out and padded over to the next door to his left, tucking a stray wisp of hair that had worked its way out of his bun back behind his ear after knocking.

Harry was soon greeted by a giggly, pink-cheeked Taylor. “What’s up?” she smiled at him. It was nice to see her smile again – it had been a few days since he had last spent time with her; grinning emojis over friendly texts weren’t nearly the same.

“I was wondering if you would happen to have any eggs you’re not using that you wouldn’t mind lending me?”

“You say ‘lending’ as if you’re going to return them after you’re done with them,” Taylor teased, opening the door wider to let him in before she started heading for her fridge. “Did you pick up anything cool today?”

“Yeah, actually, I got a vintage watch. ‘s got a boat on the face.”

“Aww, like the one on your arm? You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Course.”

If it weren’t for the flicker of movement that caught his eye, Harry could’ve easily not even noticed that Taylor had company.

“Oh, hi Sam,” he said politely once he realised her boyfriend was sitting on the couch, not watching them but obviously listening. Harry had only met him the once, but it didn’t take a genius to notice that Sam wasn’t too fond of his newfound friendship with Taylor.

“How’s it going, man?” Sam asked him; he wondered if he would’ve if Taylor wasn’t only a few metres away.

“Pretty good, thanks,” Harry smiled at him cordially. “How have you been?”

“I’m good.”

It was simple and it hung there in the air between them. Thank god they weren’t alone together.

“Did you have fun last night, Harry?” Taylor filled in the space before it became uncomfortable, though she might’ve just failed at that in a different way.

“I did, yeah,” he replied, looking back over at Taylor who was now leaning against the kitchen counter with an egg carton in one hand. “Bit of a quiet one. T’was nice, though.”

Harry had spent the night before at a bar with Jared and Eric, an easy guys’ night out with a few drinks and endless banter (mostly thanks to Harry and Jared taking any opportunity they could to make fun of each other in their endearing bromance way). It had been fun, and he really appreciated that Taylor thought to ask him how it went.

Sam, on the other hand, didn’t so much. He joined the clear dots that the two talked a lot, and he knew Taylor. He knew Taylor in a way that Harry could only dream of, and he knew how sweet and genuine she was. He knew how easy it was to fall for her. He didn’t know Harry, and he didn’t know whether he could trust him. Fair enough. There was just something about his immediate judgement that was a little… _off_.

With a subtle meaningful cough from Sam, Taylor pushed herself forward and took the few strides over to Harry, holding the carton of eggs out to him.

“I don’t need that many,” Harry assured her.

“There aren’t that many left in there,” Taylor countered, wearing a small cheeky smile that he had become familiar with. He adored it.

Taking the carton, Harry started backing towards the door before he overstayed his welcome. “Well, thank you. Sorry for interrupting. Have a nice night.”

“You too,” Taylor wished, following him to let him out. Harry mouthed _“sorry”_ at her again once he was out in the hall, and she just smiled at him. _“Tomorrow night,”_ she mouthed back.

Harry had never enjoyed knowing a neighbour more.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

When he pictured walking through Central Park with someone, Harry pictured strolling along hand in hand, sun high in the sky, birds singing, families laughing around them, and a gorgeously warm feeling in his stomach because it was such a lovely day he was sharing with someone close to his heart. Sitting on a bench with his head between his legs because the feeling in his stomach was nausea made reality a buzzkill.

“The fresh air was supposed to make you feel better,” Taylor said, her disappointment clear in her voice as she soothingly rubbed his lower back.

“I think it was that hotdog,” Harry grimaced, the thought of the greasy mess he’d downed not long ago churning his insides and almost making him hurl all over his shoes.

The food had been a mistake, yes, but so had not spending the entire Sunday in the comfort of his bed after two nights out in a row. He should’ve taken a raincheck on Taylor’s suggestion of taking a trip to Central Park to sometime when he wasn’t hungover and could fully appreciate it.

Of course _she_ was fine. The night before, Taylor had had hardly anything to drink. She had been too busy dancing with her girlfriends in the middle of a bar that was used to seeing them twirl around by themselves. Harry had dumbly downed three beers that he didn’t even want while he watched on at a table with the guys. It had been nice to have been invited out with Taylor and her friends again, it just would’ve been a little nicer if he hadn’t spent the night before at a different bar celebrating the month coming to an end and another issue’s work well done. Harry had woken up at midday and chewed on some plain toast after taking an aspirin – not exactly a kick-starter way to start a fun day out at the iconic city park.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Taylor asked him. Her kindness made Harry want to curl up in her lap and let her stroke his hair and tell him comforting things until he felt better. Not that that was ever going to happen, let alone in such a public space.

“Maybe some water?” he guessed; it couldn’t hurt.

“I think there was a stand we passed not far back. Will you be okay if I go for a couple minutes?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

Taylor was still reluctant to leave him. She gave him a one-armed hug before rising to her feet, glancing back over her shoulder when she started walking away. She did so once more when she was a little further along, though thankfully for her she missed when Harry shortly stood and threw up in a nearby trash can. Another woman saw, however, and gave him a worried look, which he passed off with a small forced smile.

It did make him feel better, though. With the unsettled feeling out of his system, Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and went off after Taylor. He saw her handing over some cash to a man at a cart, putting her change back into the small red bag that was hooked over her shoulder on a thin strap. Her gaze almost automatically landed on him like she was magnetically drawn to him, her features creasing in concern that was visible even from a distance.

Hurrying over on a pair of floral-printed Keds that Harry had admired greatly when he had first noticed them, Taylor rested her hand on his arm and held out a chilled water bottle when she reached him. “Why aren’t you waiting on the bench?” she immediately questioned. “You look paler – are you feeling worse? Do you wanna just go home?”

“’m feeling better, actually,” he told her, taking the bottle and unscrewing the lid for a sip. “Don’t think anyone will be wanting to go near that bin, though.”

Taylor understood what he meant and pulled him into a hug with a sad, _“Aww, babe,”_ and rubbed his back again gently. “We should just go home,” she thought. “We can come back another day; I shouldn’t have made you come today anyway.”

“You didn’t _make_ me do anything,” Harry disagreed, looking at her with a proper smile when she pulled back. “I feel better now, honestly. I really just shouldn’t have had that hotdog.”

“I did tell you that,” Taylor smiled back at him teasingly.

“It smelled so good, though – it looked so good,” he laughed in his defence. “It was cruelly deceptive.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?”

“I’m sure. Besides, we haven’t even made it to the zoo yet. I wanna see these seals you were talking about.”

“If you change your mind, let me know, okay?”

Harry nodded, and as they began walking together again he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and searched for a stick of gum – he always seemed to have a supply on him. He offered one to Taylor and she accepted happily, though luckily for her she wasn’t taking it to mask the unpleasant aftertaste of sick.

“You know what?” he said as he tucked his wallet away. “You’ve got to be, like, the greatest friend.”

Taylor glanced at him in a little astonishment, blushing the slightest. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know anyone else besides my mother who would hug me after finding out I just threw up.” Harry grinned at her. “You’re incredibly caring.”

“If you think that just because I hugged you now, you should wait until you’re really sick or someone’s hurt you.”

Sliding her hand under his arm so she was holding onto his bicep, Taylor moved in to walk closer beside him and she smiled at him affectionately. Now there were two things stopping Harry from kissing her right then: Sam, and the minty taste in his mouth with bile undertones.

It wouldn’t have been shocking to anyone else who was wandering around the park and happened to pass them. The way they were touching and talking as they walked close together gave off the impression that they were actually _together_. For Harry, their friendship wasn’t unexpected: he had always been able to get along well with women, and he and Taylor had discovered they were very similar in nature. It was the level of attachment that was what took the both of them by silent surprise.

It had occurred to Harry that maybe he had found so much importance in Taylor in such a short amount of time because this was still an unfamiliar city to him – New York wasn’t where he properly called home, he still didn’t have all that many friends here, and he hadn’t felt a longing for a romantic connection with someone since… well, over a year now. To a degree, that was all a part of it, but that didn’t explain why Taylor was so interested in him. It didn’t explain why Taylor was always keen to spend time with him, why she always listened to him attentively, always enjoyed his sense of humour, always offered him food and rides to work, always smiled at him like he was someone special. He couldn’t very well ask for an explanation. She probably didn’t understand it either.

Harry had come to a somewhat conclusion that their natural bond was a simple act of fate. He had been looking for something that would keep him in New York, aside from the obvious, and Taylor was just that. She had come into his life as the close friend he needed to keep him going. There was a reason that she was already taken and his feelings weren’t reciprocated: he didn’t need a new relationship in a new city, he needed a friend who was going to stick it out for the long run.

At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

When they reached the famous Central Park Zoo, their chatter subsided. They wandered around in enjoyment as they stopped to view the animals the zoo had to show, giggling over comments they made over each exhibit.

“Which one do you think is Melman?” Harry leaned further into her conspiratorially while they watched some giraffes meandering their way around their enclosure. Taylor hadn’t let go of his arm and he was really hoping she didn’t intend to anytime soon, even though she was probably only doing it because she wasn’t convinced he was fine.

She gave him a strange look now. “What?”

“Isn’t _Madagascar_ set here?” he asked, suddenly doubting his memory. Taylor instantly cracked a smile and burst into laughter.

“I think that one would be him,” she went along with him, pointing at one of the giraffes sitting down near the back. “He’s just sitting there ‘cause he’s scared that if he does anything else, he’s going to get hurt.”

“Do they have lemurs here? I always thought that, you know not King Julian, but his sidekick Maurice – he looked more like a Furbie than anything else.”

“So did I!” Taylor beamed. “Furbie’s are terrifying. They’re like, Satan’s children’s toy.”

 _“Satan?”_ Harry laughed a little too loudly, though he didn’t notice the odd look they got from a nearby mother with a toddler in her arms. “Right, they’re Satan’s little spawn, here to convert children to a life of sin.”

“They’re here to _kill_ children – haven’t you heard the stories of them talking without any batteries in them? That’s _terrifying,_ Harry, that’s fucking terrifying. It wouldn’t surprise me if one day they started a Furbie uprising and we all die.”

They were both laughing over the idea, though Harry was also stuck on the thought of how weirdly attractive it was to hear Taylor curse. It wasn’t something she did often and it seemed to sound different coming out of those sweet lips of hers. His fantasy of getting in bed with her and seeing what it was like to make her utter profanities underneath him was probably why he was enticed by her dropping an expletive every now and then. But of course, _that wasn’t going to happen between just friends._

As they moved through the zoo, they opted with giving their own names to the animals they saw. It was a fun little game, childish if nothing else. The pair of them were like oversized children, anyway – they found enjoyment in simple things, in joking around with a carefree youthfulness that reflected the lively aspects of their personalities. That side was more evident in Harry: he often messed around a lot, while he unknowingly brought out that energy in Taylor that she didn’t always let surface around everyone. He didn’t realise he was one of the lucky few who saw the true playfulness that Taylor held.

The last place they rounded around to was the seal exhibit. Taylor had tempted him to come in the first place with the possibility of seeing a seal balance a ball on its nose, and she had guided him through the zoo so they left them until the end. It turned out they _weren’t_ going to be seeing any seal tricks – not any instructed ones anyway, since it turned out they had missed all the shows for the day. It didn’t really matter, anyway. Harry had liked spending his day out with Taylor instead of wallowing on the couch in self-pity over a hangover he gave himself (even if he had rather disgustingly hurled in a public trash can).

“I don’t see any ball, Taylor,” Harry still poked fun at her when they leaned against the railing around the edge of the enclosure.

“Maybe they’ll get creative and toss something else instead.”

“Like what? Are they going to start playing Frisbee with some fish?”

“That I’d like to see,” Taylor laughed, finally letting go of his arm only to slide her arm around his waist instead. Naturally, Harry put his arm around her shoulders and drew her in closer while he internally screamed _‘holy shit’_ for the millionth time. He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him.

After they named each of the aquatic creatures they spotted, including two lucky seals named after them, Taylor turned her head to him and smiled, the warmth in it reflecting the heat they radiated where their bodies were touching. “If I were an animal, what do you think I would be?” she asked curiously.

“Um.” Harry pondered it, chewing his lip in thought. “Maybe a dolphin.”

“A dolphin?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, more convinced as he considered it further. “They’re pretty neat, eh? They’re fun, they’re friendly, they can do cool tricks, they’re nice to look at, they’re sweet when they’ve got their little baby at their side, they’ve always got their pod, and they’re super smart.”

“I like the sound of that,” Taylor smiled in appreciation. “You would be a cat.”

“Why am I an everyday cat when you get to be a dolphin?”

“Because you’re totally a cat!” she said adamantly. “Actually, you’re more like a kitten. Kittens tend to be nicer, y’know? They’re incredibly adorable and they play around a lot. Cats have got cute whiskers and you’ve got cute dimples.” Taylor poked the crease in his cheek beside his smile, making him laugh. “And you say you’re always napping everywhere, so a cat would be a perfect match for you.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

Taylor was grinning at him brightly, giving his dimple another cheeky poke. Harry loved it. Harry totally loved it, and he had to keep his eyes away from hers because he knew he couldn’t handle looking straight at so much sunshine.

“What’s so funny?” she asked when he started trying to hold back a laugh.

Harry dared to pull his gaze away from the seals in front of them and look her in the eye as he said, “I’m pretty sure seal Taylor and seal Harry are getting it on over there.”

With a slow slide of her stare, Taylor peeked to see if he was lying, and she promptly broke into laughter, stepping away from him and grabbing him by the arm to drag him along. “Time to go.”

 

*** * * * ***

Back at Harry’s apartment for a change, the pair of them were sitting on his couch trying to figure out what they wanted for dinner that wasn’t going to make Harry sick again.

“I’m telling you, my stomach feels fine – it’s my head that’s a bit off,” he continued to insist. Taylor ruffled his hair and smiled at him in disbelief.

“And I’m telling _you,_ you said you were fine before the hotdog and look where that got us,” she reminded him. “What do you feel like?”

“I want some bacon,” he thought, nodding a little.

“With what else? You can’t just have bacon.”

“Says who? I’m a grown man who can have a serve of bacon for tea if that’s what I want.”

“Well I’m older and wiser and I’m saying it’s not a good idea.”

“Oh, you are _not_ playing that card.”

“Too late.”

Taylor laughed as he playfully pushed her, laying back on the couch and curling her legs up with her. She threatened to kick him with her white sock-covered feet and Harry grabbed her calves before she had the chance. Stretching her legs out over his lap, he rested a hand on her knee and smiled down at her. It was another reflection of how comfortable they had grown to be around each other.

“How about some pancakes?” Taylor proposed, clasping her hands over her stomach.

“Pancakes would be fine with me, but would they be fine with you? If you’re against only eating bacon, you might be against eating a breakfast food at night, too.”

Taylor’s eyes twinkled with his teasing. “They are two totally different things and you know it.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not right,” Harry grinned at her. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his phone light up on the coffee table and he reached over to get it, chewing on his lip as he read over the message he had received.

“What’s up?” Taylor asked him curiously, watching his face.

“My mum’s just wondering if now’s good for a Skype call.”

“I’ll go,” she said, immediately sitting herself up.

“You don’t have to do that, I can–”

“No, you talk to her. I’ll come back later and we can eat and watch the movie then.”

 _Madagascar,_ obviously. Harry had suggested they watch it when they were on their way home and Taylor had happily agreed with him, neither of them quite ready to finish their day together.

Climbing off him as he quickly typed a reply back on his phone, Taylor tugged the hem of her shorts down from where they had ridden up while laying down. She headed to the kitchen to see what ingredients he had while Harry went to grab his laptop, which he set up on the table where they had been sitting.

“Do you have any maple syrup?” Taylor asked as she scanned the contents of his cupboard.

“Um, I don’t think so,” he answered distractedly, trying to get his computer to hurry up and connect to the Wi-Fi already once it had loaded up.

“I think I might have some left, but I’m gonna go to the store for some bacon anyway so I’ll get some more,” she told him. “Is there anything else you want?”

“Nah, I think I’m good, thanks.” Harry glanced over at her and smiled, watching as she skipped across the floorboards and disappeared off behind him through to his bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. It wasn’t often that Taylor spent time in his apartment, but it was oddly gratifying to see how at home she was when she was here. True, the layout was almost exactly the same as her own so she didn’t really have to think about where she was going, but still. She held herself with a confidence that came from being comfortable in her surroundings.

Harry turned his attention back to his laptop when he got the call from his mum. He knew she was sitting at her own computer waiting to see his username come online so she could get in before anyone else did, just like always. He would never pick anyone else over her, anyway – he missed her too much. It was always like a flood of relief when his screen filled with a vision of home, like a blanket of warmth when he saw his mother’s face and heard her voice. He loved her so much and it wasn’t easy on either of them to be so far apart. At least when he had been at university she had only been a car ride away, not a whole plane trip. They made the most of the technology they had available.

“Hi, mum,” Harry greeted her gently, propping his chin up on his hand as he leaned forward on the couch.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re looking a little pale,” was typically the first thing she said.

“How do you know it’s not just the lighting?” he quipped.

She sighed fondly at his classically cheeky reply. “You’re fine. So, what’s new? How’s work treating you?”

“It’s going good, yeah. Niall is actually sending me some stuff that I can use, so that’s nice.”

“Oh, good. Is he still enjoying it at the studio?”

“Yeah, he seems pretty happy. He’s been working with Ed on some stuff, so it’s good for the both of them.”

“Things are all working out for you lot, aren’t they? You’re all very lucky.”

“Yeah.”

As quiet as she was trying to be, Taylor didn’t tiptoe out of his bedroom unnoticed. Harry could sense her moving behind him and he heard her pull out one of the dining chairs so she could sit down while she put her shoes back on. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips just from glancing over at her, while his mum was watching him with a knowing smile of her own.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked, and Harry whipped his head back around to face the screen again.

“No,” he quickly replied. “No, um, just–”

“Harry.”

Licking his lips, Harry glanced back over to Taylor, who was watching him cautiously while she tied her shoelaces. He tilted his head slightly towards the laptop and posed the question to her with his eyes.

Still light on her feet, Taylor tapped over to the couch and sat back down beside Harry, their thighs not quite touching. She gave a small wave at the webcam and offered a welcoming smile. “Hi, I’m Taylor. I live next door.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Taylor,” she said, her face lighting up. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

If Taylor noticed Harry cutting his mother a warning stare, she didn’t visibly react. “It’s so nice to meet _you_ ,” the blonde enthused. “Harry speaks so highly of you – of all of your family. It’s a pleasure to meet you, even if it is just through a screen.”

And she thought _he_ was charming. Harry could practically see the tick of approval she was receiving in his mum’s head at that very moment.

“Aren’t you lovely? Call me Anne, sweetheart.”

Her grin was the same as Harry’s: both he and his sister had taken after her most noticeably in that way. That dimpled smile was a heart warmer and a heart breaker, almost a blessing and a curse for anyone who saw it. Harry especially had learnt that he had more of a chance of getting his way with an easy pop of those adorable dimples.

“What have you two been up to?”

“We went to Central Park today,” Taylor replied happily. “Harry hadn’t been to the zoo yet and I thought it was a nice day for it. _Oh my god_ – is that your cat behind you?!”

Harry couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at Taylor’s sudden rush of excitement, how she suddenly leaned forward to get a closer view of yes, the black and white cat that had wandered its way into frame by balancing on the ledge of the mantelpiece in the background that it wasn’t really supposed to be climbing on. Anne got up and walked over to pick up the furry friend (who was much more willing than Meredith had been when Taylor had introduced her to Harry) to show off up close. Taylor gushed over the feline and started talking about her own, saying that Harry would have to send some pictures later. He did have a fair few by now.

“I should actually get going – I’ve got to stop by the store and go feed my own little angels,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes when Harry scoffed. “Just because Meredith hissed at you the other day, doesn’t mean she’s not an angel sometimes.”

“‘Sometimes’ being the operative word there,” he muttered, sure that if they didn’t have an audience Taylor would’ve stuck her tongue out at him playfully like she occasionally did. Instead, she directed her smile back to the laptop screen.

“It’s been great talking to you, Anne. I’ll let you and Harry catch up, but maybe we could talk again sometime?”

“I’d like that. You have a nice night, dear.”

“You too. It’s getting quite late there now, isn’t it?”

“It’s never too late if it means I get to talk to Harry.”

Taylor literally brought her hands up to her chest in the space over her heart, she found it that sweet. She was smiling wistfully as Harry escorted her to the door after she finished saying goodbye, and he was surprised by the tight hug she pulled him into just before she left. “You are _so_ lucky,” she whispered, which was incredibly true. He was so lucky to have the family that he did, particularly fortunate that even after his parents had split up, he had ended up with a stepfather he got along well with. He wouldn’t trade anything.

When Harry sat back down on the couch, he and his mum shared a meaningful look. She didn’t have to speak for him to guess what was running around in her mind. He had told her plenty of things about spending time with Taylor, and as much as he liked to think he kept the feelings that lay underneath his words hidden away, he wasn’t that subtle. Anne could read him awfully well and she could tell what he was trying to say without him having to utter a word – now _that_ was a blessing and a curse, for sure.

“So that’s her,” she broke the silence simply.

He nodded. “That’s her.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s everything, mum.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

It was 10am the next Tuesday and Harry was watching Karlie have her hair straightened and her lips painted a generous gold gloss that looked like it was going to start dripping down her chin any second now. She looked totally professional sitting still and obedient while she had a person either side of her transforming her for the shoot. She looked like she was enjoying it, too.

“Can you take a picture for me, please?” she asked, holding her unlocked phone out for Harry to take. From his spot leaning against the table they were working at in Camryn’s studio, he snapped a candid of her getting all dolled up and another artsy one in the reflection of the mirror in front of her, careful to angle it so he wasn’t seen in the photo.

“How come I always end up Instagram Man during these things?”

“Because you don’t _do_ anything else,” their make-up artist Emma was quick to quip, glancing at him through long lashes as he leaned back against the table and handed Karlie’s phone back.

“I sent an email just after I got here,” Harry defended himself jokingly, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling in amusement.

“What a tough day you’re having so far,” Emma replied sarcastically. Harry could never really tell if she liked him or not: she spoke to everyone like that, with the exception of the models she worked on. She would smile at him though, so he gathered he was accepted.

Today’s excuse for tagging along with the photoshoot that had nothing to do with his part of the magazine was that Harry had been the reason it was happening in the first place. True to his word, Harry had shown Mallory the designs Teo had sent him and she had jumped at the chance to feature him. After the girl who was supposed to be photographing the spread had fallen ill, Camryn had happily taken the job and re-located the shoot to her studio so they didn’t have to reschedule everything. Harry was just curious to see how it was going to turn out.

“I heard Taylor met your mom the other day,” Karlie decided to bring up, and okay, maybe Harry had wanted to come just for the chance to talk some more with her.

“Did she tell you that she won her over in, like, not even a minute?” he smiled back at her.

“She said that she was embarrassed she had taken so much interest in the cat instead of her.”

That he already knew. When Taylor had returned to his apartment after he had finished up the Skype call with his mum, she had started ranting about how important first impressions were and that she had totally ruined hers by making it seem like she was, quote, _‘the crazy cat lady who lives next door’_. Harry had watched her make their pancakes in his own kitchen and repeatedly reassured her that she had nothing to worry about.

“To be fair, my mum would’ve done the same if she saw Taylor’s cats,” he pointed out, and he saw Karlie part her lips to say something back only to quickly decide against it.

It was intriguing, the relationship he had with Karlie. With her being so similar in personality to Taylor, it was almost a given that they were going to get along well, too. It was a different kind of story with them, though. Karlie was… Well, Harry was yet to figure out what Karlie was playing at. If she kept teasing him with these little nuggets of information about Taylor that he didn’t already know, maybe it wouldn’t even matter. Either that, or it would just make his aimless longing worse. He was too fascinated to stop trying to learn more, though.

“If it weren’t for her classes, she would’ve come today, y’know?” Karlie told him. “Teo’s hoping to convince her to do the next shoot with me, even though he hasn’t even finished this one yet.”

The look she gave in the mirror didn’t reach Teo – he was across the room deep in conversation with Mallory, the two of them not having separated ever since Harry had introduced them to each other earlier. Apparently their fashion minds thought alike.

“Well if it happens, I’d like an invite,” Harry needlessly requested.

“I’d be shocked if you weren’t offered one,” Karlie smiled back at him, and if he was honest, so would he. He _had_ been invited to a birthday party of a girl he didn’t even know by people he had only just met, after all. For someone who had spent his first three months knowing hardly anyone in the city, Harry was doing pretty well for himself now.

The shoot thankfully went along smoothly. Once Karlie was all set, Teo worked closely with Camryn in achieving the style that he was after. He was understandably really into it, having practically jumped for joy when he laid eyes on the black and white grid backdrop that the assistants had found and set up that worked perfectly with the metallic colours of his collection. Fitting his own theme, he had on a silver jacket that he had made himself and that Harry was low key admiring for a good part of the time that he stood off to the side watching the day play out.

 _‘Karlie’s a natural’_ Harry texted Taylor somewhere in their first half of the day, echoing Mallory’s words that she had uttered wistfully shortly after they had gotten started. It was undeniably true; it was more surprising that this _wasn’t_ something she was used to doing every other day. She could easily make a career out of it, but as she was bent over a steel chair on an angle that looked awfully uncomfortable, she insisted that she was more interested in her studies and her dance right now (which explained why she had no problems with twisting her body whichever way she was instructed – she was fucking flexible for sure).

With Taylor focused on her classes for the day, he only received a couple quick texts back and forth, which was fine: Harry was enjoying what was going on in front of him. After they paused for a lunch break, Karlie’s look was re-done: nude lips with long ticks of eyeliner and silver glitter eyebrows (strange, FYI) and her hair done in a French braid either side of her head.

“You look like a badass space woman,” Harry commented when she stepped out from the partition in skin-tight silver pants that he would never admit to wondering whether or not it was a colour _he_ could pull off.

“I _feel_ like a badass space woman,” Karlie laughed with a playful karate kick of a long leg nobody wanted to be colliding with. The heels on her shoes looked like they could do legitimate damage.

Harry took another photo of her with her new beauty look and Karlie pulled him into a selfie when he returned her phone to her. It was silly: Miss Glitter Brows with a joyful grin and Harry sticking his tongue out to the side, but it earned a rightful place on Karlie’s Instagram page.

They spent another long while taking another ton of photos, switching outfits and cooing over the previews that came up on the monitor. By the time they decided it was a wrap, there was still a wonderful energy in the room, probably thanks to the fun playlist Teo had hooked up to the stereo to keep everyone up on their toes and in good spirit throughout the day. They rounded it off with a Beyoncé track and the girls were bopping their way through packing up the studio.

Teo took a moment to come over to Harry now his work was done. “I really can’t thank you enough for this,” he said with a kind of mystified smile. “I panicked when Sarah called in sick but this turned out to be so much better than it was originally going to. Don’t ever tell her I said that.”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that happening,” Harry chuckled – he didn’t even know the girl. “I’m happy I could set this up for you. I really like your designs.”

“I mainly do women’s clothes but I’ve got some menswear sketches too – I’ll show you some you might be interested in, get them done for you if you want.”

Harry looked at him in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Totally,” Teo grinned, the familiarity of the conversation not lost on him. “You got me major advertisement, man. You didn’t have to do that and I want to thank you. Besides, you seem like a stylish man; I can’t get the other guys out of their average t-shirts and into a bold print even if my life depended on it.”

The pair of them laughed.

“Not everyone can pull off a print,” Harry recognised in amusement, though there was no doubting that he did. The subtle swirled pattern on the cream shirt he was wearing now wasn’t the most obvious example, but it was more about the air of confidence that he wore it with, showing off with only just over half of the buttons done up and paired with skinny jeans that had a rip at the knee. Harry’s style was easy fashion that was well put together and worn with conviction – that was the key.

“We should hang out sometime,” Teo suggested with a friendly smile. “I know some cool places around here that no one else will probably take you to.”

“I’d love that, yeah,” Harry was quick to genuinely agree. “Just message me whenever; weekends are always good for me.”

Teo nodded. “Perfect. I should go pack my samples now – it looks like they’re done in there – but thanks again, Harry.”

“No worries,” he grinned, watching him walk off through the open partition after a pat on the shoulder. He noticed Karlie having emerged back in her own clothes and her handbag hooked on her arm ready to go and he strolled over to her casually; she was kindly his ride home.

“Have you checked Instagram?” she asked without looking up from her phone in her hand, and Harry stopped himself from cheekily commenting that that would sound strange had it not been him who approached her.

“I haven’t,” he answered, and it turned out Karlie was the cheeky one here with the small smirk teasing her lips when she turned her phone around for him to see. Open on it was the photo of the two of them that she had uploaded earlier, and after noticing they had a nice 58 likes already, Harry’s eyes were drawn down to the comment at the bottom that Taylor had left that was just three heart eyes emojis. A smile crept up on his face before he could stop it and he laughed when Karlie playfully poked him in the stomach, too much like Taylor would.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked him, and after going around to say goodbye to his colleagues, the pair of them headed down to the street and to the lot Karlie had parked her car in. They chatted along the way, Harry complimenting her efforts during the day and Karlie expressing her enjoyment. The best part of their walk to her car was passing a man who did a double take and frowned deeply when he noticed Karlie (it was hard to miss the six foot one beauty) and her glittery brows. They laughed at his astonished and quite disturbed reaction as soon as they were sure he was out of earshot – New York was a place where you could be who you wanted, but that didn’t mean you were exempt of strange looks for stepping out of the norm.

When they made it to the apartment block and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, they hovered for a moment outside Taylor’s door, closer to the stairs.

“Do you want to join us?” Karlie offered politely, tilting her head slightly towards the door. On the ride home he had learnt that she was spending the night at Taylor’s; he didn’t really want to intrude on their girls’ night.

“I should actually get some work done today,” he declined with a small laugh. “Thanks, though.”

“I’ll see you another time, then.”

“See you.”

Sharing a smile, Harry moved to his own door while Karlie knocked on Taylor’s. He was through and into his apartment when he heard a distinctive squealed _“Look at you!”_ that had him chuckling to himself. Maybe he would say yes to that offer next time.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

If someone walked into the office of _A.N.Y._ that Friday, they would’ve been amazed at how any work got done on time. At least, they would’ve been amazed at how two certain troublemakers had landed writer positions and successfully managed to stay in them.

In their defence, Harry and Jared had spent the first two hours actually working on their respective pieces. Harry had even finished off part of his section, much to his self-satisfaction. It was just when he wheeled his chair over to Jared’s desk that the thought of being more productive went flying out the window.

After they had been rightfully banished from the main office floor by an editor who declared in exasperation that they couldn’t think properly when the two of them were having a childish wheelie chair race around the room, they had retreated to the lounge where it was perfectly acceptable to slack off. If nobody wanted to witness them mucking around, that was fine by them. They would take a break out of everyone else’s way.

Their lunch break ended up being a lot longer than usual – they had the PlayStation to thank for that. Whoever had put that in the office lounge clearly wasn’t thinking straight, but Harry and Jared were praising the unwise decision that let them play FIFA during work hours.

“I never understood that game,” was Mallory’s comment when she wandered in to make a cup of coffee at one point, which Harry thought a little strange: most of the time he saw her heading out to a café down the street if she wanted a caffeine fix. “Or why anyone would want to spend hours playing it.”

“That’s because you’re a girl,” Jared replied without averting his eyes from the television screen in front of them, not even when Harry gave his shoulder a shove.

“Girls can play FIFA if they want,” Harry defended dutifully. “I taught my sister how to play and I’m telling you, she did a better job than you are now.”

“Are you good, Harry?” Mallory asked him.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m English – football practically runs through my veins,” Harry responded jokingly, glancing over at her waiting by the coffee machine and giving a playful wink. Mallory smiled at him and it was a damn good thing they were only playing a video game and not the real thing, since Jared would’ve called his bullshit faster than he muttered _“soccer”_ at him now. His skills didn’t exactly extend to a proper field.

“And in case _you’ve_ forgotten,” he said, looking at Jared’s profile this time, “it’s _football_ , and this game will back me up.”

Jared shook his head. “You know what I can’t wait for? Your first Fourth of July here. You and your football and your tea are going to get so fucked.”

“I personally would like to get fucked on the Fourth of July,” Harry countered cheekily. “Girls like a bad boy, y’know? Sleeping with a Brit on the Fourth of July would be like sleeping with the enemy. I’m liking my chances.”

“I’m not,” Jared scoffed. “Mallory, would you sleep with him on the Fourth?”

“You two are disgusting,” Mallory wrinkled her nose and took the opportunity to leave, steaming coffee cup in hand. Hardly surprising.

“I’m betting she would,” Jared said confidently as soon as she was gone.

It was Harry’s turn to scoff at that. “You’re very lucky you don’t do any _actual_ betting, since I can’t name a single time you’ve ever been right.”

“All I’m saying is that she finds you attractive and it wouldn’t surprise me if it happened.”

Was it bad that it wouldn’t altogether surprise Harry either? It wasn’t that he particularly had feelings for her, but she was cute and there was a connection between them – they wouldn’t have accidentally locked lips all those months ago if there wasn’t. Neither of them had brought it up since, though, so maybe it was just a one-time thing, just another drunk moment to be forgotten.

It didn’t really matter, with the conversation dropping as soon as the next person to walk in and see the boys lounging around with controllers in their hands was someone who actually held authority.

“I didn’t know I paid you two to play games all day,” their boss thought aloud as she headed to the shared fridge, chuckling to herself at the comical way Harry and Jared immediately straightened their backs and looked more alert as if they were two kids being caught misbehaving in school. “Unless we’re reviewing FIFA and its soundtrack, I’d like to see you two back in there.”

“We were kind of kicked out,” Harry dumbly told her, Jared stifling a laugh beside him at the recollection of their wheelie chair fiasco.

Liza looked over at them with an eyebrow arched, the bracelets on her arm jingling as she opened the refrigerator door. “Don’t race any more chairs and you’ll be welcomed back.”

 

*** * * * ***

After passing on going out for drinks and causing more chaos with Jared and Eric after work, Harry found himself doing the equivalent on the comfort of his own couch. It was past midnight for Louis and Zayn when they linked up for a video chat, and an hour later they weren’t showing any signs of crashing. They seemed to already be celebrating the end of the school year even though they weren’t quite there yet.

“So when are you coming back for a visit then, eh?” Louis asked from his side of the screen. He and Zayn were mirroring Harry: while Harry had made himself comfortable at one end of his couch with his laptop twisted towards him on the coffee table, Louis had draped his legs over Zayn’s lap with little regard for personal space as they sat on theirs. The familiarity of the sight had Harry wishing his answer was sooner.

“Um, well, I’ve definitely got December planned,” he let them know. They were still only in May – seven months seemed like an age to wait to see his friends again, not to mention his family. He’d never gone this long before, but that was just a part of what happened when you took a job opportunity in such a faraway place. Popping home for a weekend wasn’t exactly in the cards.

“Are we going to have to start a _‘Get Harry Home’_ fund?” Louis suggested jokingly. “We could get a jar. Maybe even set up a gofundme page, see how many people we can get on board.”

Harry grinned. “Nice to hear you’re missing me so much.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Louis warned with a chastising wiggle of his index finger.

“That’s not how you tell off your students, is it?” he teased, and if it weren’t for their distance Harry would’ve received a pillow smack in the face instead of one just bouncing off Zayn’s laptop, tilting the screen back.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Zayn huffed as he leaned forward to re-angle the screen. Harry watched with a fond smile, unable to escape how much the two sounded like an old married couple these days. They had always been close, but living together in close quarters with no one else as a buffer had certainly added another layer to their bond that really showed. He wondered if people used to look at him and Niall like that – he had to push the thought out of his head before the pang of homesickness sparked into anything greater.

“Maybe we could come to you,” Louis proposed once their display was positioned normally again and they had stopped looking at each other with silent meaningful expressions.

“If he has time for us, you mean,” Zayn pointed out in a lower tone, Harry sighing as he watched them elbow each other with snickered laughs.

“Believe it or not, I do have more than one friend here,” he informed them, knowing full well what they were getting at. “I’m not _sad_.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Louis said, the mischievous smile on his face an obvious indicator that he wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Even without it, anyone who knew him would know that he wouldn’t. He loved a good-natured pester. “It’s just a coincidence that we only hear about one of them.”

“That is a lie,” Harry defended. He talked about plenty of people. It wasn’t his fault that some came up more than others – that was only natural.

At least Zayn backed him up a bit. “Don’t be too hard on him, Lou, else we might have to bring up the ‘R’ word.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

When they were in uni, there was a torturous semester in their second year where a very pretty girl named Rhiannon was in one of Louis’ classes. The entire time, she was completely oblivious of Louis’ interest in her and of the flirtatious way she came across when she was with him. It had entirely messed with his head: she would touch and tease him, but it was like she had him totally friend-zoned. She never made a move on him and didn’t take any of his hints, and the rest of them in their dorm house had had to deal with Louis’ incessant pining until the school year ended and Rhiannon transferred to do her final year abroad. As much as he poked fun at Harry about Taylor, Louis really got it. He got it more than he wanted to.

A while later they decided to call it quits, departing with another promise to talk again soon. Harry signed off with the contented warmth he always felt after Skyping someone from home, and when he checked his phone, he found some Snapchats from Jared and Eric at the bar, one from Niall of Ed, and a few of what looked like a double date between Taylor and Sam and Karlie and Josh.

Maybe he _did_ need to get out more.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Hey, you changed it.”

“Oh, yeah. I felt like something different.”

Harry ran his finger lighty down the edge of the photo frame resting on Taylor’s bookshelf. Instead of holding a picture, the glass had been coated with chalk paint, making for a cute different way for her to personalise her decoration. It had had the same quote written on it the whole time he had known her, but now she had erased it and replaced it with a song lyric he knew scripted in white chalk with small stars drawn in two opposite corners for a little extra detail.

_‘Oh, reckless abandon  
Like no one’s watching you’_

“I didn’t know you liked this song,” he said, looking over at Taylor to see her stirring sugar into mugs of hot chocolate over in the kitchen. It was getting late, but that didn’t seem to matter. If Harry went back next door, they would just be staying up by themselves anyway. Might as well have some company.

“Do you ever wonder, like, if you had a movie montage of you and someone you were in love with, like all these moments in your relationship that were significant in some way, whether you knew it at the time or not, what song would be playing over the top of it?” Taylor asked him, an embarrassed smile forming on her face when she met his gaze. “No, I’m the only one weird enough to do that. Anyway, I’d like ‘Sweet Disposition’ for that.”

Harry nodded. He hadn’t really considered something like that before, but he could see why she had. Taylor was a romantic, he could see it in her eyes whenever she spoke about anything to do with love. He knew why she had thought of that song.

“Do you think you’ve had your ‘Sweet Disposition’ love affair yet?” he wondered, making his way back over to the couch after blowing out the candle that sat further along the bookshelf, like he had originally been intending to upon request before he got distracted.

“I don’t know,” Taylor answered honestly. “I don’t think it’s something you’d know until it was over.”

 _“Won’t stop ‘til it’s over,”_ Harry sang, and the smile it brought to Taylor’s face as she carried the two steaming mugs over was so sweet that he wished her Polaroid camera was within reach so he could make sure he remembered it. He already had some stashed in his bedroom that they had taken together and she had let him keep. The vintage softness of the photographs held her romantic air.

“I didn’t know _you_ liked it,” Taylor said as she handed him his hot chocolate. He nodded and thanked her with a smile, gently blowing on the liquid’s hot surface while he reached for his phone. It took him a bit of searching to find a picture that showed what he was after, but he managed to zoom in on an old beach photo he had been tagged in that was clear enough to read one of his past tattoos. He turned his screen around to show her and he watched as her eyes squinted to read the writing, her gaze darting between his phone and his hip a couple times. Laughter bubbled behind her lips – not exactly the reaction anyone wanted.

“You actually let someone permanently tattoo the wrong words on your body?” Taylor looked at him in entertained surprise. “No wonder you covered it up.”

“It’s close–”

“ _‘Won’t stop ‘til we surrender’_ is _not_ the same thing,” she disputed before he even had a chance to defend himself. He was starting to regret showing her, but she soon poked the spot on his torso where the words lay hidden and looked at him with a softer smile. “Different meaning, but I like it. Why did you really cover it?”

Harry simply shrugged. “Impulse.”

“Is impulse the main reason why you’re a walking piece of art?”

“Pretty much.”

Taylor sipped from her mug, her eyes drifting over the ink on his skin that wasn’t veiled by his t-shirt. “Have you covered many of them?”

“Um, a few, yeah,” he answered, going on to try to find pictures of the couple pieces he had gotten drawn over. It turned out Taylor seemed to like the originals better; she had a fascination with his interest in marking his body the way that he did. Maybe it was because she had never been allowed any of her own (even as an adult who could make her own decisions, it was a big _no_ from her father), but she was really intrigued by what he chose to have tattooed. Sometimes he would catch her staring at his arm when she thought he wouldn’t notice. He liked the attention from her.

“I watched this video a while ago where these best friends chose tattoos for each other without the other knowing what they were,” Taylor started telling him later. “They chose the design and where it was going to go and their friend only got to see it once it was done. It was really cool, like, they ended up with these really special tattoos that they wouldn’t have chosen themselves but they really loved. You’d have to really trust someone to do something like that, and really know them, obviously, to know what they would like. It was interesting to watch.”

Harry nodded, a smile growing on his face. “Got a pen?”

Soon armed with a black Sharpie, they went with their own less permanent take on the experiment. They took some time to think it over before they put any pen to skin, avoiding the inappropriate scrawling that typically came with giving someone a marker and another person to draw on. Harry was the first one to put the pen to use.

Keeping it simple, he drew a small shooting star on the corner of Taylor’s inner wrist. It might’ve seemed kind of cliché, and maybe it was, but if you looked at Taylor the way Harry did – like a celestial being so stunning and out of reach – it made it much more than just an easy shape.

Whether she understood it or not, Taylor smiled when he told her she could open her eyes and she saw the little star on her wrist. She must’ve liked it, liked _him_ , otherwise she wouldn’t have been compelled to quickly take the pen from him and draw a matching one on his opposite wrist. She gave a friendly bump of his shoulder with hers, a cute giggle leaving her lips as her fingers ran up his arm and she complained that she didn’t have a lot of empty space to choose from on him.

“I’ll take my clothes off, if necessary,” Harry told her teasingly, Taylor’s eyes widening as she let out a surprised laugh.

“Sure, yeah, that’s cool,” she replied as a joke, laughing loud as he pretended to start undoing his belt. She swatted his hands away, as if that didn’t make hers close to _that_ region.

They took turns doodling on each other’s skin. Harry coloured a love heart on the side of her middle finger, drew a daisy on her ankle, a crescent moon just behind her ear; Taylor etched a barcode on his inner right wrist, wrote ‘heaven’ just above the bend of his lesser-inked arm, put a playful ‘T’ behind his ear. He chuckled at that last one, was incredibly polite when he went on to ask her if she would mind letting him do something on her ribcage.

“Is this okay?” Taylor checked as she rolled her shirt up without a hint of self-consciousness. He could see the band of her pastel bra and he had to remind himself that what he was doing now had _nothing_ to do with that. “If my skirt’s too high, the zip runs down my left side,” she added, and Harry raised his eyebrows up at her where she had stood up in front of him so he was on a better angle to draw from. She missed his startled expression with her eyes already closed.

“You’d let me pull down your skirt myself?”

“I like a man who’ll do the work,” Taylor teased, her small smirk turning into a friendly giggle. “No, really, I trust you. I’m only drawing the line at taking off my underwear.”

Harry ignored the exclamation points bouncing around in his mind over what was happening and replied as cheekily as he normally would. “Damn, I really wanted to write ‘lucky’ right under your pants, so when someone takes them off–”

“They know they’re lucky without having to read it,” she assured him. “Wouldn’t that hurt so much getting a tattoo done there?”

“Probably not as much as it would hurt you getting one here,” Harry told her as he started drawing on her ribcage instead of just staring at her wonderfully toned body. His hand carefully resting on her hip kept him steady as he sketched on her as best as he could from the picture he had in his head.

“Do you go by yourself to get yours done?” Taylor asked him curiously, obediently keeping her eyes shut and chewing on her lip a little when he told her yes. “If you get another one, can I come with you?”

He smiled. “Only if you hold my hand.”

“Deal.”

He hadn’t been thinking of getting anything new anytime soon, but he certainly had more of an incentive to now.

It took him a while longer to finish this drawing. Hardly being an artist, it wasn’t turning out as spectacularly as he had hoped, but when he finally let Taylor open her eyes again she was impressed by the long feather on her torso, the wisps at the top floating away and turning into birds in flight. It was the most creative either of them had been and she wasn’t really expecting it, to be honest.

“This is so cool, oh my god,” Taylor praised the picture on her skin, even if it was upside down the way she was looking at it.

“I saw it on Instagram a while ago,” Harry confessed with a smile hinting on shyness. “I thought it would make a nice tattoo for someone.”

“It so would. Hang on–”

Taylor disappeared off to take a proper look at it in the bathroom mirror, calling out, “It looks so good!” as if his Sharpie drawing was really as nice as the detailed artwork he had stumbled upon while browsing Instagram one night. Harry smiled to himself as he waited for her to return, though his smile quickly turned to a look of total astonishment when Taylor reappeared and pulled her shirt off over her head after tossing him her camera and asking if he could please take a photo.

“What? It’ll look better in the picture if I’m not holding it up,” she reasoned when he made zero effort to do anything other than stare in surprise at the sight of her sans top.

Avoiding pointing out that _any_ picture would look better if she was posing with just her bra covering her chest, Harry dutifully snapped a photo of his drawing and tucked the Polaroid under a pillow to develop in darkness. He tried not to gawk at her, not wanting her to think he was just another perv, but he did get a nice look at her breasts and, well, _damn_. That bra wouldn’t be staying on long if she was _his_ girlfriend.

When she turned around to pick her shirt up off the floor, Taylor glanced back over her shoulder when she heard another click of the camera. She grinned at Harry’s guilty smile, and for some reason she decided to mess with his head for a little longer. She perched on the edge of the coffee table with her body twisted towards him, crossing her legs and leaning back on one of her hands. Her gaze was purposely flirty as she smiled at him for another photo, and Harry praised whichever god was granting him such an unbelievable opportunity.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Taylor asked him once he tucked the third Polaroid under the pillow. It seemed like such a ridiculous question that he didn’t even know how to immediately give an answer.

“Honestly?” Harry leaned forward and Taylor nodded, her blonde curls bobbing either side of her face as she did. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with as much natural beauty as you.”

 _Click._ Harry took another photo of her just after the words left his mouth, immortalising her adorable flattered smile and the shy drop of her gaze that came from the compliment she hadn’t been expecting. How? She had a mirror: she had to know how stunning she was. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he had said something like that.

Quickly leaning forward and reaching for her shirt, Taylor tried to hide her blush with the dip of her head and the rush of her movements. She whipped his leg with the lightweight material, accusing him _“Liar”_ before she pulled it back over her head. He wasn’t lying one bit. That’s why it was probably best he didn’t have so much of her skin to look at anymore.

When Taylor sat back down, it was after nudging him further down the couch so she could sit on his opposite side. They kind of abandoned their game after that, instead Taylor just took the pen off him and started doodling on his clearer arm without purpose. Harry felt like he was her notebook and they were sitting in a class she found boring, that he was (mostly) blank paper to keep her entertained while someone else droned on.

Her touch was gentle, her fingers soft and the tip of the pen vaguely ticklish on his skin. While his eyes mostly stayed forward, glancing occasionally at what she was marking him with, he wasn’t really paying much attention to the TV they had had playing the Food Network for the last few hours. It was hard to when Taylor was being so tender with him: once she ran out of room after decorating him with a mismatched collection of flowers and hearts and words and stars and squiggles, she rested her head against his shoulder and stayed so close to him. It gave him a familiar warmth that he hadn’t felt in a long time, making him wonder how he had managed to survive so long without having someone he cared about just sit with him in comfortable quiet until they fell asleep together.

He didn’t quite mean for the sleeping part to really happen, but the last thing he remembered was someone on a cooking competition whining over their undercooked cake and then he was gone.

 

*** * * * ***

It was pitch black when Harry was startled awake hours later.

Eyes snapping open with a gasp, he had no fucking idea where he was or what the _fuck_ had just smacked him in the face. He scrambled to get his bearings – he was used to the confusion that came with waking after accidentally drifting off by now. It took a moment or so for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and he soon realised he was still sitting on Taylor’s couch, only now with a blanket thoughtfully thrown over his lap. He reached over and fumbled for the switch on the lamp resting on the closest end table, illuminating the room a soft yellow and letting him see what had disturbed him:

Meredith, now perched on the armrest at the other end of the couch, her fluffy tail swishing behind her just before she jumped down onto the ground and disappeared out of sight. _Lovely._

Harry rubbed his eyes. He should go home. He should already _be_ home. Why hadn’t Taylor woken him earlier?

It was when he went to check the time on his phone sitting on the coffee table that he discovered a note left beside it. He yawned as he picked up the paper marked with handwriting he had been able to instantly recognise ever since he had received that very first note from her months ago.

 

> _Hey sleepy,_
> 
> _You looked so sweet there, I didn’t have the heart to wake you._
> 
> _If you’re reading this in the middle of the night, then I’m guessing one of the cats has disturbed you. My apologies for any unexpected noises or claws digging into your face. (It happens)_
> 
> _If you’d like to move, there’s an available space in my bed. It’s MUCH more comfortable than the couch, I promise. And don’t worry about sharing – though YOU fell asleep all over ME, so I don’t think you actually really mind._
> 
> _I hope you get back to sleep okay. I know you have work tomorrow (today?) so I’ll make you a nice breakfast to start the day._
> 
> _Sweet dreams,  
>  Tay_

He smiled sleepily. It was so… so _Taylor_ to leave a note like that. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would bother to, and he really knew that moving from the couch was not going to be the best for his heart but he wanted nothing more than to climb into her bed all the same.

It took a bit of deliberating, but Harry ended up flicking off the lamp and using his phone to light his way through her apartment. He left Meredith to her nightly wanders as he tiptoed into Taylor’s bedroom through the half open door, trying to be as quiet as he could as he questioned what on earth he was doing. He couldn’t _really_ just get into bed with her, could he?

With his phone pointed at the bed in front of him, he saw cosy-looking covers and Taylor curled up on the right side, and yes, he really could just join her.

Leaving his phone on the nightstand, Harry weighed up his dress options before deciding that taking any of his clothes off was a step too far. She might’ve given him permission to sleep in the same space as her, but that didn’t mean she was keen to wake up to an eyeful of him in his underwear. ( _Although,_ that could be good payback for her unashamedly showing off her body to him earlier)

He took extra care in pulling back the blankets, not wanting to disturb her. Taylor stirred a little when Harry cautiously climbed under, but she didn’t seem to wake. Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he settled himself in the infamous bed of Miss Swift.

Oh god. He did _not_ need to be thinking about the fact he was lying in the very place where Taylor and her beloved boyfriend got down and dirty and frequently disrupted his peace through the thin walls. He. Did. _Not_.

It was one of those thoughts that refused to go away. He tried to think of something, _anything_ else, but it was an awfully difficult feat. He still sometimes thought about what Karlie had mouthed at him that first night they had met: _“He’s shit in bed.”_ Why? Why had she told him that? Was she lying? Just trying to make him feel better? It didn’t _sound_ like he was shit. It sounded like they both had a fucking _fantastic_ time – a bed-rocking, hair-pulling, back-scratching, dirty-talking, loud-moaning, mind-blowing _fucking fantastic_ orgasm fest every other day. There was a very good reason why Harry and Jared had joked about him living next door to porn stars. He almost wished he could go back to not knowing her so it wasn’t so weird to hear, though he would be lying if he said that that was what he really wanted.

Harry preferred to tell himself whenever he heard some gross grunting coming from this side of the wall that he could do it better. He could go deeper, he could move faster, he could hit harder, he could make her louder, he could make her scream so everyone on their fucking floor could hear how earth-shatteringly _brilliantly_ he could make her come because he – _he_ could give her a proper filthy fuck if that was what she wanted. He was young and fit and confident and blessed with size and no matter how good or bad Sam really was, Harry knew he could easily outperform him. _Just ask any other woman he’d slept with_.

One thing worse than sleeping in another man’s place in a girl’s bed: lying in that place and getting turned on over the thought of having better sex with the girl in question.

Harry eventually managed to fall back to sleep after ignoring an unwanted hard on, knowing well that he was going to have to find someone even just for a night to properly release all his frustration, _pronto_.

 

*** * * * ***

 

It was Harry’s alarm that woke the two of them in the morning. He was disoriented, not used to the sound coming from that side of him, but he managed to fumble his finger onto his phone screen and swipe the alarm to silence. Normally it was snooze he was reaching for, but it didn’t feel right to be delaying and causing more disturbance when he wasn’t in his own bedroom.

Turning his head to see if the chime had woken Taylor up beside him, Harry felt guilty as soon as he saw her fists rubbing her closed eyes and her brows pinched in a frown.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, coughing a little to clear his throat. “Sorry, didn’t want t’ disturb you.”

He shouldn’t have moved from the couch. If he hadn’t, he might’ve been able to leave without interrupting her rest.

Taylor, though, surprisingly didn’t seem to mind. When she moved her hands away, she looked at him mockingly and said, “’Marimba’? _Really?”_

Her lips curved in a sleepy smile and he gave a small laugh as she rolled on her side to face him. Apparently her humour set in as soon as her brain switched back on.

“Sorry,” he repeated with his own tired smile. “Sorry, it wakes me. You can go back to sleep.”

She shook her head a little. “Did you have a nice sleep?”

“T’was nice, yeah, ‘til Meredith slapped me in the face with her tail,” he replied, watching Taylor trying to hold back a giggle. “’s been a while since a cat’s woken me.”

“Sorry,” Taylor apologised this time. “Do you like my bed?”

“Mm, yeah, very comfortable,” he approved. “Sorry I fell asleep on you. Didn’t realise I was that tired.”

“It’s fine. It was kinda cute.”

 _Like you look right now,_ he didn’t say. Through the dimmed morning light, Taylor looked so soft and natural, make-up free and relaxed. Waking up to an alarm was never a fun start to the day, but seeing Taylor’s gentle smile somehow made up for it. What a blessing it would be to get to spend every morning this way.

“Your accent sounds cuter in your sleepy voice, too,” she complimented, and Harry chuckled a little as he turned his head to look back up at the ceiling.

“’s too early to be making me blush,” he said, which only seemed to prove her point.

“Look at those cute dimples,” Taylor decided to tease him, her hand slipping out from under the blanket so her finger could prod at the indent in his cheek. “Look at that messy hair. Look how cute you are.”

“Stop it.”

_“Cutie pie.”_

“Are you like this every morning?”

“‘Marimba’ must’ve messed with my head.”

Harry glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow, Taylor giggling and momentarily burying her face in her pillow. _Who was the cute one now?_

“What do you want for breakfast?” she asked.

“Some more sleep,” he joked.

“Do you like scrambled eggs?”

“You don’t have to make me breakfast, Tay.”

“I want to.”

A conversation they always seemed to have, Harry typically accepted her offer and they settled on him ducking next door to change and grab his things for work while she cooked for them. He couldn’t exactly head to the office in yesterday’s outfit, not when the story he had to tell didn’t have any saucy details. Well, not any that weren’t imaginary.

When Harry forced himself up, earlier than usual, he wasn’t expecting Taylor to make a comment as he stretched his arms above his head, his t-shirt riding up and showing off a slice of his lower back.

“You can take your jeans off next time,” she told him, sitting up in bed when he half-turned to look at her. “I mean, it mustn’t have been so comfortable sleeping with them on. You can sleep here how you’d normally sleep at home; I don’t mind.”

A smirk pulled at Harry’s lips, and with a smooth getaway he grabbed his phone off the nightstand before he left her blushing with a provocative revelation: “I sleep naked.”

Now _that_ was a way to start a morning.


	3. Chapter Three

“I think I finally understand the American dream.”

The guys snickered around him, one giving him a friendly punch on the arm. Harry didn’t doubt he had a proper place in this friendship group anymore. He wasn’t just that guy who lives next door to Taylor anymore, he was Harry: sweet, strange, British boy Harry. He fit in in his own right, and he was _loving it_.

On the first weekend of June, the troupe would bundle into a few cars and drive to Orchard Beach every year for a traditional beach day in celebration of the beginning of summer. As the date had approached, Harry’s name had been included in the list for the group message where they organised all the details of the special day, and it was like he had been _officially_ adopted into their circle.

The car ride that morning had been a loud one, mostly thanks to Taylor and Karlie babbling away excitedly and breaking into enthusiastic duets with dance moves that would’ve worked better if there weren’t three of them squished up in the back of Sam’s car. Harry had had a window seat, sitting with Taylor’s thigh brushing against his in the middle, and endured quite the performance when The Spice Girls came on through the speakers. He questioned whether he’d heard ‘Wannabe’ sung louder by two people who were completely sober before.

Now, they were all living it up on their stretch of beach, the boys enjoying the _spectacular_ view they had of the girls stripped down to their bikinis and frolicking about on the sand. It turned out they had an ex-cheerleader amongst them, and watching them all attempt to round-off down the beach was quite the sight to see. Because they were running. In their bikinis. Right in front of them. Yikes.

“Can you even go to the beach in England?” Levi asked, a daft thought he probably wished he’d kept to himself when he got resounding laughter in response.

“Yeah,” Harry answered with a grin. “Believe it or not, we have swimming pools there, too.”

Another laugh – he was getting good at this.

“But isn’t it always freezing cold there?” Levi still continued on. “Who wants to swim in that?”

“Said by a man who’s never witnessed the blessing of a thin bikini top on a cold day,” Harry replied cheekily, and _that_ – that was exactly the kind of bro comment that worked with most of these guys. He even got a fist bump from Sam. Seriously.

While he could hardly say he was best buddies with Sam, it was a welcomed relief that they seemed to be on a better page. Maybe someone had had a word with him, or maybe he had finally realised that Harry was never really going to try to steal his girl, but Sam didn’t always look at Harry like he was up to something shady anymore. They got along fine and it was better for everyone.

It was Teo, actually, who had convinced Harry that Sam’s suspicion was only temporary. Over lunch in an underground café, Harry had recently learnt a lot about Teo and the inner workings of the squad. Sure, he had heard plenty from Taylor, but it was interesting to have a change of perspective. Teo had an abundance of tea to spill and Harry was more than willing to listen. Sam was like that with everyone, apparently – the jealous type that had been wary with even Teo, who had known Taylor longer and was very much into men. _“He’ll get over it,”_ Teo had assured him. _“Taylor’s as loyal as a Labrador – you would think he would have figured that out by now.”_

Harry hadn’t gotten out of the conversation without an intrigued questioning about where his heart laid with Taylor, but he had dodged it with a typical “yeah she’s pretty but I’m not interested in dating right now and she’s taken anyway” line that definitely did not convince Teo. It wasn’t even technically a lie: he _wasn’t_ interested in being in a relationship, but if there was anyone who could change his mind about that, it was Taylor. There was no doubt that it was Taylor.

It was a good thing Harry had sunglasses on now: nobody could tell his gaze followed Taylor more than it did the other girls. They were all stunners, honestly, but there was only one of them who looked like they had just stepped out of a time machine from the fifties in a polka dot bikini with matching high-waisted bottoms. With her red lipstick, oversized hat and Polaroid camera, Taylor was fantastically vintage without seeming like she was even trying to be.

She looked fabulous, while Harry sat watching feeling like, well, a bit of a mess amongst the ink-free shirtless men around him. He was the youngest and not quite the fittest, but he was still attractive in his own right, right? _Right?_

He didn’t have time to dwell over the uncertain thought since they were soon all up, someone having pulled out a football for them to kick about. It was relaxed, easy, felt like being at home. Except, y’know, _warmer,_ and less insulting towards Harry’s ball skills. (Just because Louis was far better at football than he was, didn’t mean he should make fun of him for it, but Harry didn’t expect anything less by now)

Instead, he was teased about it being _soccer_ , which he’d heard plenty of times since moving here. Harry actually did a pretty decent job, though admittedly trapping and passing the ball to someone across from him wasn’t all that difficult a task. He didn’t embarrass himself with any completely off-target passes though, which was the main thing. Even when a mini girls-versus-boys game soon ensued, goals marked by random belongings placed in the sand, he managed to score more than once. (Suck on _that,_ Tomlinson)

It was turning out to be a pretty great day. Aside from Taylor, occasionally Karlie and now Teo, Harry didn’t really spend time during the day with any of these people, so it was nice to be out in the sun and enjoying himself with them.

“Take a picture of us, please!” Taylor giggled and tossed her camera to Karlie when the three of them were later sitting on the sand. They had a habit of gravitating towards each other, though they weren’t the only ones. There were smaller groups within the whole, a natural turn of events.

“Squish in together, then,” Karlie instructed, and Harry swore he could see a hint of a smirk on her face as she lifted the camera up to peer through the viewfinder. Taylor shuffled over on the sand to sit right next to him, her hand resting on his closest shoulder and the brim of her hat accidentally hitting him in the side of the face when she tilted her head to look cute for the photo.

“Watch out with that thing, will you?” Harry laughed as his arm naturally slid around her small waist. “’s dangerous.”

“Sorry,” Taylor grinned, squealing in laughter when he suddenly pulled the hat from her head in a quick swipe and plopped it on top of his own. It was then that Karlie pressed down on the shutter, capturing the pair of them looking at each other and laughing, a perfect snippet of what so much of their friendship looked like.

“How do I look?” Harry asked her with a wide smile, dimples cratering deep in his cheeks.

“Adorable,” Taylor blurted out, pressing her lips together to hold in her giggle at the word she hadn’t meant to say.

“I’m _adorable?”_ he repeated emphatically, and she nodded quickly, her cheeks turning a pink that wasn’t from the sun when he leaned in closer and said, _“You’re_ adorable.”

“Can I have my hat back?” she asked, quieter since he hadn’t yet pulled back.

“Maybe,” he replied simply, and almost as swiftly as he had taken the accessory from her, Harry was up on his feet and sprinting down the beach away from her. He left Taylor gaping at his classically cheeky move; a moment later she left Karlie sitting there shaking her head at what the two of them had going on.

Little rocks poked into their bare feet every few strides, but that didn’t stop either of them. Taylor chased along after Harry, a decent gap between them thanks to his head start. She didn’t run as hard as she could’ve, partly because she wasn’t interested in having any unfortunate bikini mishaps and partly because she was unconsciously drawing the game out – they both were. It would’ve been easy for Harry to slow down so she could catch up and take her hat back quickly, but where was the fun in that?

Curving around and heading back the way they had come, Harry gave Taylor a chance to tighten their distance. They ran along the shoreline, the tide wetting their feet and sticking dry sand to them when they trailed further back up the beach. They had a few stares on them, some rolling of eyes, but neither of them even considered that possibility. To them, right then, it was just the two of them there.

When Harry turned, started jogging backwards and taunting her with his hold on the floppy hat brim, his gorgeous carefree smile and the thin glisten on his exposed skin, they stopped in their tracks for a moment, staring at each other like it was a showdown. Fake left, fake right – Harry soon tore off again, running higher up the sand and hoping to overtake her again. Taylor pushed harder when she went after him, cutting across his looping path and catching up significantly. He could hear her closer behind him, slowed just a little, and sincerely hoped there weren’t any children around when he called “Holy _shit!”_ a little too loudly when Taylor launched herself at him. He didn’t realise she was that close or that springy, but she managed to push off her long legs and jump right onto his back, taking him completely off-guard.

Stumbling forward, Harry tried not to totally lose his balance for both of their sakes, but she was unintentionally choking him with her arms clinging around his neck and when she tried to haul herself higher up his back and secure herself with her legs wrapping around him, she somehow managed to kick him in the groin in her desperation to hold on, and that was it: they were down.

Taylor shrieked as they fell to the sand, the pair of them landing hard in a tangle of limbs. If she hadn’t kept her hold on him, she would’ve flown over the top of him as he fell forward – instead, she was more like a turtle shell clutching onto Harry as he tried not to completely face plant and get a mouth full of sand.

“You were supposed to stay _up,”_ Taylor told him through her laughter – at least they were both laughing about it as they collapsed on the sand.

“You got me in the dick,” Harry whined back, rolling over when she detached herself and grabbing at himself with a such a cute frown on his face that shouldn’t have had as much of an effect on Taylor as it did.

“I didn’t mean to,” she promised, her hand brushing along his jawline, almost teasing with how brief the action was. “Are you okay? I would offer to kiss it better, buuuuut…”

Harry snorted. “Then I would be getting hit on purpose.”

It was all innocent. They didn’t _mean_ to say things like that, didn’t _mean_ to play around with each other like they did. They were close and comfortable with each other, that was all.

At least that’s what they kept convincing themselves and anyone else who saw them when they were their most together. It was easier for Taylor: she had someone to default to, someone else to say “I’m in love with”. Harry could plead the friendship card all he wanted, but there was something different in his eyes when he looked at Taylor, something he didn’t even realise.

There was one person who saw it loud and clear, though. Once the hat situation had been settled with it returning to its rightful owner, a bunch of them had gone for a dip in the ocean, full of splashing and mucking around. It had had a sour end for one of them: Taylor, who cut her foot open on a sharp rock she hadn’t seen. They’d all watched her be heroically swept up in her boyfriend’s arms, blood running down her foot as she was carried out onto the beach and taken care of on a towel Sam dragged away from the rest. Was it necessary for him to give her that slice of privacy by separating them from the collection of everyone’s things? No. But it gave Harry a first-hand glimpse of a side of their relationship he’d never seen before.

Even from a distance, he could see how gentle Sam was being with her. He kept a protective arm around her waist, letting her lean against him with her legs draped over his lap as he tended to her cut with his other hand. He resourcefully cleaned it with some of their drinking water and pressed a tissue he’d grabbed out of her bag to it to help subside the bleeding, all the while his lips moving with what could only be words of comfort. He had taken care of Taylor the first day he had met her, and he was still doing it now. She kissed him and Harry knew Taylor was in love with Sam. He knew.

The two of them soon disappeared, Taylor being piggybacked back to Sam’s car in search of a band-aid. One of the girls probably had one in their bag that they could’ve used, but they were already on their way before anybody could offer one up and save them the journey.

Things went on in the water without them, Karlie shortly pulling Harry back up onto the sand with her so she wasn’t sitting alone while she went to grab a snack. At least, that was her excuse to talk to him alone.

“You need to either put your sunglasses back on or work on your subtlety,” Karlie advised him after taking a bite of an apple from their assortment of eats they still had left. She raised her perfectly arched brows at him meaningfully and Harry dropped his head with a small guilty smile.

“Nothing wrong with making sure your friend’s alright,” he brushed it off simply, reaching for the last banana and beginning to peel the skin back. “You were doing the same.”

“Mhmm,” Karlie nodded, altogether unconvinced and unafraid of showing it.

“They make a nice couple, alright?” Harry was able to admit.

“Uh huh.”

“Will you stop doing that?” he laughed lightly. “I don’t know what it is you’re expecting me to say.”

“Nothing, nothing,” Karlie smiled with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Don’t mind me.”

What she was waiting for was for him to tell her the truth. It hadn’t happened yet, didn’t look like it was going to happen today, but it was going to happen eventually. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut forever.

It took far longer than necessary for Sam and Taylor to return, and considering the significant look shared between Taylor and Karlie, Harry was 98% sure that his assumption that their time was spent less to do with band-aids and more about assisting their active libidos was correct. If he was honest, he probably would’ve done the same if it were him, but the thought of spending the entire car ride back sitting where they had no doubt gone at it wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. Didn’t he suffer enough with the thin apartment walls?

It was a good thing the day’s activities tired him out. All the running, swimming, and messing around in the sun had Harry due for a nap, and when they all finally decided to call it quits and part ways in the late afternoon, he fell asleep with his head resting against the window like he was a little kid. He didn’t have to think about what had probably gone on on the backseat he was sitting on, today and every other day, for that matter, but he did miss the conversation that went on about him because of it.

He missed the way Taylor couldn’t help herself from taking a picture of him, how Josh told her how creepy it was to do that, how Taylor insisted he looked so sweet and how Sam jokingly asked if anyone had a pen to draw on him with. He missed Taylor’s secret smile at him as she was reminded of how they had already played that game, and he missed how she ever so gently brushed a lock of his hair away from his face.

Instead, he was woken when they pulled to a stop outside the apartment block and a chicken nugget was wafted under his nose thanks to a food stop he wasn’t even aware they had taken. Laughter filled the confines of the car as he took a bite after barely opening his eyes, and he was bid goodbye with a free meal courtesy of Taylor, who made sure he wasn’t left out just because he wasn’t awake.

The promise of “see you later” and free fries left a good taste in his mouth as the others drove away with enthusiastic waves out the window. What a nice day to be in New York.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Harry loved live music. He loved the atmosphere, loved seeing someone on stage doing the one thing they had always wanted to do, loved the adrenaline that radiated from musicians when the crowd reacted to something they had crafted. Magic may only be a myth, but there was something enchanting about how music could make a person feel in ways they never had before.

It was a Thursday night in a SoHo bar that had Harry once again blessing his job that made things like this the norm. He was paid to listen to music all the time, something he was completely in love with – what more could he want? On second thought, don’t answer that.

He was sat at a small table on his own, drink neatly atop a coaster and his trusty notebook and pen sitting beside waiting to be utilized. He was in for a night of pop punk thanks to a band he had stumbled upon online, finding interest in them if not for their sound but for the lead singer’s sick braided hair in one of their music videos. Harry’s hair was long enough to do that with, he just didn’t know _how._ A minute into a YouTube tutorial (yes, he actually searched it) and he realised that he would not be able to do that successfully even if he practiced every day.

Instead, he had been left admiring someone else’s handiwork, sincerely hoping that the front man would don a similar hairstyle tonight. The guy setting up the stage for them had a long ponytail, which was nice, he supposed, since he also had a beard that impressively was around the same length, but Harry couldn’t imagine that being a look he could pull off. Mostly because he doubted his ability to grow that much facial hair, not to mention his ability to keep that much hair on his head by the time he was as old as this guy was.

When the band finally came on stage, Harry was instantly let down by the lack of braids any of the members had, but he figured they had probably made a wise decision with that: with long hair down, they could look like proper rock stars up there, even if the place they were playing at looked neater than a true rock aesthetic.

The lead singer, who introduced himself as Evan, asked the crowd if they were having a good night, which probably wasn’t met with the enthusiasm he had been hoping for, but he went on with gusto nonetheless. The band kicked into their first song, an original Harry hadn’t heard but seemed to sound pretty good. He flicked his notebook open to a blank page and reached for his glass, stunned when he looked back up at the stage only to find someone standing directly in front of him, staring not at the band but at _him._

“What’s with the notebook?” the girl asked him in an untrusting tone, even more surprising.

“I’m a journalist,” Harry replied casually, trying to keep his eyes from drifting down from her face to the tiny crop top she was wearing that revealed a good majority of her midriff. He didn’t know where this girl had appeared from, but somehow he didn’t so much mind.

“Do they know you’re here?” she oddly inquired.

“Why do you ask?”

She put her hand on her hip and he couldn’t help it: he quickly glanced down, catching sight of a shiny piercing through her belly button. Nice.

“You can’t write about people without their consent,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Who said I was actually going to write about them?”

He had her there. She seemed strangely defeated, her hand dropping from her hip, though what was weirder still was she slipped down into the empty seat at his table.

“I’m Jenna,” she introduced herself.

“Harry,” he nodded his head once, taking a sip from his drink before returning it to the coaster. Jenna was watching him intently.

“They’re pretty shit, y’know?”

“You’ve seen them before?”

“Tragically,” she rolled her dark eyes, done up with smoky black shadow. “The bassist’s my brother.”

“Oh.”

That would explain why she had approached him like that. Though, not _entirely._

They sat through the first two songs without saying anything more to each other. Jenna disappeared off with a short “I’ll be back” and returned a few minutes later with a full glass for her and another one for Harry. He thanked her dutifully for the unnecessary token, not yet catching on to her intention. He was just appreciating the company, however unusual it was.

“I can get you backstage, if you’re interested,” Jenna coyly offered when they were well into their drinks.

“I can get myself backstage if I’m interested, actually,” Harry informed her, the slight smirk on his face bringing a lightness to his tone.

“That’s not what I meant,” she told him, resting her forearm on the table and leaning forward. The light caught a glimmer in her bleached pixie cut and he wondered if she had put some kind of glitter in it. “I can get you _backstage.”_

_Oh._ Oh, _shit._ He was so into that.

With Harry’s work irresponsibly being abandoned for the night, Jenna easily got the pair of them back into a small lounge littered with instrument cases. This wasn’t somewhere he should be, this wasn’t something he should be doing, but perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing to dip into the kind of reckless fun he’d had in college. He was acting on impulse and he really didn’t give a shit. After all, how often did he stumble across a girl who was so unashamedly forward and, well, _enthusiastic?_

*** * * * ***

The next morning Harry stumbled into work with a little spring in his step. He smiled as he passed Jared’s desk and he dropped his bag down onto his own, almost chuckling when Jared spoke to him.

“How was the gig?”

Harry chewed the mint gum in his mouth, unable to stop the smirk from tugging at his lips at the memory of last night.

“I shagged the bassist’s sister.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Once Taylor had realised that her quest to get Harry to pick up a guitar ever since meeting him was futile, her next bright idea was of a more relaxed nature. Well, for some.

A night out at a karaoke bar seemed like torture for many, but Taylor had an inexplicable power over everyone that led to the gang finding themselves in for a night of popular tunes being massacred by drunken patrons or sober ones who were just in it for a laugh. They had, what – two, maybe three of them on their table who could hit some notes without everyone cringing. Tonight was going to be something, that’s for sure.

“You’re getting on that stage, even if I have to push you up there myself,” Taylor had ordered almost as soon as they had walked in. Her subtlety was charming.

“What if I don’t _want_ to?” Harry retorted, though he had to admit, he was tempted. He’d done karaoke in front of an audience before, but he had been hammered at the time. Everyone there had been. He couldn’t remember what song he had even sung, but there had been applause. At least, that’s what he thought he recalled.

“Need I remind you of one of the greatest love stories that happened all because they were made to sing karaoke together?” Taylor looked appalled when he didn’t immediately catch on. “Troy and Gabriella! _It’s the start of something new, it feels so right to be here with you, oh!”_

“We’re not in high school and it’s not New Year’s Eve,” Harry pointed out, trying not to laugh at her enthusiasm.

“Minor details,” Taylor brushed him off, matching his grin with her perfectly painted red lips. “All I’m saying is, you never know what might happen when you give something a try. The love of your life could be in this very bar and you don’t even know it yet.”

The love of his life could be right next to him and _she_ might not know it.

“I’ll sing something with you if you don’t want to go up there alone,” she went on to offer.

Harry couldn’t help it, he said, “Are you insinuating that we’re going to go up there and sing something together and fall in love?”

Taylor laughed – god, did he love that sound. “I mean, theoretically, it could happen, but that’s not quite what I meant with that offer.”

“That’s a shame, then,” Harry replied, sounding far cheerier than the annoying little pang of disappointment he had over singing a duet with her and _not_ having her fall for him. By now, you’d think he would’ve gotten used to the problem of having a stupid goddamn _crush._

It was fine. It was all totally fine sitting next to Taylor at the table, even if when he glanced down he got a whole eyeful of her toned thighs thanks to her dress riding up when she had sat down and crossed her legs. That did nothing to him whatsoever, nuh uh, no sir.

Harry swallowed his fleeting tasteless thought of how nice it might be to have those thighs wrapped around his waist with a mouthful of the tequila in front of him. None of them were even considering getting up on the stage at the back of the room before they had downed at least a little liquid confidence.

It was a nice set up they had going on at this place. The stage was well lit with a mic stand in the centre, a couple more set off to the side in case anyone wanted to get up with friends. Apparently they did themed nights with different genres and decades, even ran a couple competitions too. It was more than just some dingy bar with a mic and a karaoke machine; it was actually pretty cool, and it attracted people who were actually interested in the scene that weren’t half bad.

There were pointed fingers between the lot of them trying to decide which of them would go up first. First had to be the worst place to go, being the ice breaker to get everyone else wanting to have a turn. Maybe it would’ve been better to have someone who wasn’t so good at singing to go first, but no, because it was Taylor’s idea, she was pushed to be the first on their table to strut their way over to the song list to pick something to wow the crowd with.

Harry had heard Taylor sing a handful of times. Mostly it was only a couple of lines, maybe a whole song if they were in the car together and it was one she really liked. But Harry had never seen Taylor on a stage performing her eager heart out before, and _holy shit_ was she phenomenal.

“Hi, my name’s Taylor,” she introduced herself when it was her turn; not everyone did that, but of course she would. She had to adjust the mic stand to reach her height in those heels of hers, her mile-long legs looking even longer and her mini dress hugging her in the perfect way. If people weren’t watching her for her voice, it was probably because she looked _hot._

“This is for someone special,” Taylor added with a mischievous little smile. She likely got a few eye rolls for a line like that, but not from anyone on their table. Not when it piqued two of their interests in particular.

After glancing over at someone side of stage, the instrumental started playing through the speakers and Harry picked up the tune instantly. A smile curved his lips; there was not a single doubt in his mind that it was for him. It couldn’t possibly be for anyone else but him.

It was The Romantics. Harry had been caught singing ‘What I Like About You’ just the other day – there was no way it was a coincidence that Taylor was up there performing it now, not when she had made it known that she had heard him singing like she so often did. _“SING me all the things that I wanna hear!”_ she had texted him, an unexpected but cute kind of message he would never tire of receiving. There was a good reason he kept singing around the thin-walled flat, you know.

It might have been a bit of a stretch to say so, but Harry was fairly certain that Taylor was looking towards him throughout the song. Okay, _more_ than a bit – there was an entire table of her friends there, of course her gaze was going to predominantly land on them. Still, it _felt_ like she was singing to him – especially when she pointed in their direction when she sang “Never wanna let you go”. Truthfully she hoped not to let go of _any_ of them there, but Harry still naively hoped she specially meant him. He would always hope that he was something special.

Taylor was met with applause once she had finished her rendition, a delighted grin on her face as she said thank you before stepping off the stage.

“Well we’re all fucked,” Teo muttered in the seat next to Harry’s, an entertained smile on his face despite his cynicism. He did have a point: nobody wanted to follow _that._

Sam stepped up out of his chair – which, Harry really liked to note, was not one next to Taylor tonight (ha!) – as she made her way back to their table. “That’s my girl,” he beamed at her, genuinely sounding proud of her effort. He pulled her into a congratulatory kiss and someone on another table whistled at them, which had Taylor blushing her way to her seat and the rest of them laughing in surprise.

“Nice choice of song,” Harry leaned in to say once Taylor was back beside him, his voice dropped lower and a telling smirk teasing his lips.

Taylor tried to shrug nonchalantly but the grin on her face was awfully revealing. “What can I say? I saw it there and it spoke to me.”

“I bet it did,” Harry almost laughed. She playfully kicked him under the table with the toe of her heel as she crossed her leg one over the other again, and if it were just the two of them it _might’ve_ escalated into more of a play fight, but they were smart enough to know there was a time and place for that and here was not it.

The poor bastard that had to follow Taylor’s marvellous act was, to put it simply, _awful._ He couldn’t hold a tune for shit and if it weren’t for his joking enthusiasm, it would’ve been painful to watch.

The next few were decent, including Sam, who was next to volunteer to go up from their group. Levi and Emilia each had a turn, and Harry couldn’t stand having Taylor’s urging stare flicking on him or the nudging of her elbow against his arm whenever someone finished a song any longer. Talk about peer pressure.

He pushed his chair back with a casual “Might as well”. He was wished luck as he headed off through the bar, which he was going to need if he was going to live up to the expectations Taylor had going on in her head. He wasn’t _that_ good. Was he?

Scrolling up and down the song list, Harry settled on something with energy. Not just that, though: it had _purpose._ It was maybe a little risky considering who was there to hear it, but if Taylor could play a game, he could certainly play one right back. Besides, no one had to know his intention, right?

Harry waited around for his turn, nerves bundling up as minutes passed. He shouldn’t have really been that nervous, not when it was just a bit of fun. But singing in front of a crowd was a lot different than belting something out in the shower, and, well, he _wanted_ people to like him. He really did.

When he was finally up, he took a deep breath before stepping on stage, blinking through the shine of the lights. He approached the microphone, adjusted the stand a little higher. There were already a couple of girls in the front staring at him, eyeing him up. God, _please_ make this good.

“Um, hi, I’m Harry,” he first said, running his hand through his hair in an unease he wished would go away. “This is, just, one I like. I hope you do too.”

As soon as the instrumental started, Harry cursed himself for picking a song with an intro, leaving him standing there awkwardly until the lyrics kicked in. It was then, though, when he could get that first line out without even having to read the screen displaying the words, that Harry’s worry disintegrated around him, and he was left up there with a microphone and his rich voice and the ability to do one thing he undeniably loved: sing.

_“One, two, three, take my hand and come with me, because you look so fine and I really want to make you mine.”_

There were glances shot between people in the bar, but not the _“oh my god get this person_ off _”_ kind that were shared every so often. These were _“oh my god this guy can_ sing _”._

Oh yes, Harry was like a baby rock god up there with his ripped skinny jeans and long flowing hair, busting out some Jet with serious passion and cheeky gorgeous dimples he couldn’t help from popping in his enjoyment. He loved it, he really fucking loved it.

One peek at their table to see wide eyes, dropped jaws and astonished grins was all he needed to know he wasn’t the only one.

_“Well I could see you home with me, but you were with another man, yeah. I know we ain’t got much to say, before I let you get away, yeah. I said are you gonna be my girl?”_

Harry looked right at Taylor when he got to that part and he really didn’t give a shit who noticed. She had a hand covering the huge smile on her face – whether she realised he had chosen the song for her or not, she was adoring his performance, and that was what really counted.

Harry fucking _killed it_ on that stage. He let his voice do its thing, resonating around the room and creating a sparking energy. Fuck, he couldn’t _believe_ it: there were people dancing along, literally _dancing_ to the sound of him singing. He couldn’t help himself from flirting with the couple pretty girls at the front in proper rock style, looking towards them for certain lines and even giving a mischievous wink. The girls giggled excitedly like he was actually some kind of star. He didn’t think he had ever felt so _alive._

Pumped full of adrenaline, Harry grinned an awestruck “Thank you” as he was given a well-deserved applause when his song came to an end. He practically floated back to the table; that was awesome. What a great idea it was to come here.

“Holy shit, Harry!” Emilia exclaimed once he was within earshot of the group. “Where did _that_ come from?!”

“I _told_ you he was amazing!” Taylor reminded them all enthusiastically, her eyes lit up completely as they landed back on Harry. “You really are.”

“Thanks,” he said bashfully, sinking back into his seat with a permanent smile plastered to his sweet face. “T’was fun.”

“Please, that was more than fucking fun,” Emilia fluttered her face melodramatically. “Is it hot in here or what?”

Harry didn’t know what to say, just shook his head with a laugh. He was hot. Wicked.

“You two – never do a duet,” Emilia suddenly waved her finger quickly between Harry and Taylor. “You’re putting the rest of us to shame enough as it is.”

“No promises,” Taylor teased in a sing song voice. If this wasn’t going to be their sole trip here, it was something that was going to happen inevitably, and while neither of them said it, they were going to really fucking enjoy that day when it came.

When the attention diverted back away from Harry and whether or not he was about to drop an album anytime soon (in his dreams, maybe), Taylor waited for a chance to speak to him more discreetly when a couple of them left the table to head to the bar for refills. She leaned in close, her voice low and her head turned so it was harder for anyone across from them to read her lips.

“You did brilliant, babe,” Taylor complimented him. “Proud of you.”

Harry’s heart raced, and as she sat back, all he could do was thank her with a ridiculously gorgeous ecstatic grin that matched her red lipstick smile.

This had to have been one of the best nights he’d ever had.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

On a Saturday night, Harry felt like he had been transported back to university. A sea of costumed bodies filled a share house, dance music blasting through a sound system in the lounge and surely disturbing the neighbours. People were flirting and grinding and drinking from red solo cups like something straight out of a teen movie. It was a little surreal, if he was honest.

Harry was introduced to the birthday girl for the first time shortly after arriving with the usual lot. The party was already well under way by then, many of them already having had a few drinks and some heavy petting going on between couples around the house. The now twenty-four-year-old was quite obviously more than tipsy and looking like she was having the time of her life. She made quite an impression, that’s for sure.

“Oh my god, hi!” Steph, in her sparkly birthday girl sash, yelled over the music when the few of them found her to greet her. Her eyes drank up Harry in his ripped jeans and frilly shirt, while his, well, tried to pretend like they didn’t have a fantastic vantage point of her ample chest threatening to spill out of the tiny crop top she had on. “You must be Harry; I’ve heard _so_ much about you. You’re even hotter in person.”

“Thank you,” Harry laughed, a little surprised. The girl at his side was not in the least bit shocked with such an introduction.

“Where are the drinks?” Taylor piped up, practically dragging him away when Steph let her know they were in the kitchen, babe. Something was up with her, her usual smiley attitude replaced with a coolness that seemed so out of place with her, but Harry hadn’t confronted her about it. If she wanted to talk to him about it, she would.

The five of them – Harry, Taylor, Sam, Karlie and Josh – downed a round of shots to kick things off for them. None of them were really that close with Steph – she was more of a friend of a friend, having been in Emilia’s classes and open to having people invite others to the parties she had had over the years. She was a carefree social butterfly, and a bit of a slut, Emilia had fondly described. No one had disagreed.

There was a mix of effort put into people’s costumes. Steph had settled on the pirate theme after all and mostly it was girls in short skirts and some ripped t-shirts here and there. Harry thought he looked decent: having opted not to go too out-there when he would barely know anyone there, he found it easy to piece together something that made him look somewhat like a pirate, had said pirate acquired a refined sense of style and a bountiful of treasure to be able to afford it. Karlie had cut holes in her blouse and done the same to Josh’s shirt, the two of them looking quite fitting together. Sam had done the same and paired it with skinny jeans ripped at the knee like practically every male there had, while surprisingly it was Taylor who had put in the least amount of effort with a simple black and white striped dress she already owned and some fishnet stockings. It worked, though.

A red plastic cup was thrusted into Harry’s hand and he could officially declare he had had the American party experience. Nice.

Taylor pulled Sam off to dance in the lounge, leaving Harry having to tell Karlie and Josh that they could go off too if they wanted, that he would be perfectly fine on his own. Despite their small apprehension, they soon departed, and Harry went for a wander, figuring he would eventually bump into someone from their regular group or someone who seemed nice enough to get to know.

Sure enough, he did. Harry was spotted by Emilia and Maddy, who grabbed him by either arm and pulled him laughing back into the kitchen for new drinks. He was yet to finish his first but Maddy still gave him some more of the fruity alcoholic concoction that filled a large punch bowl that he didn’t think people actually owned.

“You two are looking really nice,” Harry complimented the girls with a genuine smile. “Didn’t know pirates wore glitter, though.”

Emilia put her hand on her hip, resting on the sparkling fabric of her red short shorts, and giggled at him. “We’re independent pirates who don’t need no dress codes.”

“And you’re one to talk – you look more like Prince Charming than a pirate,” Maddy threw in, reaching to flick a ruffle on his collar. “Where did you even _find_ this?”

“It’s _vintage_ ,” Harry informed her with a laugh, rolling his shoulders back and standing a little straighter with confidence. Thanks to Mallory’s kind assistance, he had managed to stumble upon the white ruffled affair in a second-hand shop. He guessed it had been a costume for a play or something, since no one was casually going around in such Victorian-style dress these days. It suited Harry quite well, though. But then again, what didn’t?

“Your accent is so _cute_ ,” Emilia gushed in a giggle, like it wasn’t something he’d already been told a hundred times before. “You wanna dance? Come dance with us!”

The three of them impulsively chugged what was in their cups and abandoned them on the bench, littered with an array of others carelessly left behind by side-tracked guests. They weaved their way into the dancing crowd and it _really_ felt like he was a student again, all eager intoxicated bodies around and, in the least pretentious way, some pretty girls wanting to be the ones to dance with him. Harry hadn’t been incredibly popular but he had always been well-liked, and having handsome genes always helped in ensuring he wasn’t going to be left alone for long in big gatherings like this. There was always _someone_ who wanted his attention, whether for long or not.

Harry stayed with the girls, who were pretty good dancers actually, for a good while, going through a ton of bass-heavy tunes that were perfect for getting down to. They probably would’ve been there longer, had the birthday girl herself not materialised next to them and invited them for some shots. Willingly they were whisked off to down some more liquor they didn’t really need, but hey, nothing wrong with a bit of carefree celebration.

Harry was separated from Emilia and Maddy when Steph asked if he wanted to go somewhere quieter so they could _“get to know each other”_ , her innocent façade not lost on him. He followed closely behind her on the way up the stairs, figuring what the hell, he was entitled to some fun.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Steph smiled up at him when she stopped them in the hallway. There were two people waiting outside what he guessed must be a bathroom, definitely some people taking advantage of the privacy of the rooms on the second floor, but otherwise they were on their own.

“Thank you for letting me come,” Harry replied with characteristic politeness, a smile charming his own lips. “You look really nice, by the way. Best costume I’ve seen.”

“You think so?” she giggled flirtatiously. Of course she was going to go all out, since it was _her_ party after all. Her outfit was straight from a fancy dress store, the kind that stocked tiny hemlines for showing off. Maybe he was just a typical male, swayed by some alcohol and an eyeful of cleavage, but the eye-catching look worked for Harry. She was damn well sure it would, too.

“I love yours,” Steph told him, her fingers starting to play with his collar. “You’re like, really hot in this. I’ve been _dying_ to meet you. I’ve never met anyone from England before. Well, not anyone worth mentioning, anyway.”

Harry gave a light laugh. “You think I might be?”

“I have a good feeling about it,” she answered confidently, that flirty giggle again. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t been here long enough to have gotten to know someone like that.”

“But you know, like, Em and Maddy and Taylor and that?”

“Not _romantically.”_

“Have you ever been with an American girl before?”

“Once or twice.”

“You wanna now?”

Like no one saw that coming.

It had been a while since Harry had been the guy making out with a girl at a party. Mostly because he hadn’t _been_ to many parties, not since he had graduated. But he was quickly reminded of how, like, _awesome_ it was.

Steph wasn’t the best kisser, he had to admit, but he was hardly in a place to complain when he had her pressed up against the wall, a position that many of the guys there would’ve liked to have been in. Not to mention many of the _girls_ that would’ve liked to have been the one to lock him down – he’d been on the end of quite a few suggestive glances in the time he had been there. The pair of them were in a way kind of lucky, even if neither of them really cared about what they were doing or where it was going.

The hallway probably wasn’t the best place for their tongue-tackling, but that wasn’t on either of their minds. Him, with his hands on her ass and wondering if he could get away with giving her tits a feel, and her, with her arms draped around his shoulders and wondering when he was going to ask where her bedroom was. The very idea that other people, people they knew, were going to see them all over each other if they happened to walk this way didn’t appear in their thoughts. At least, it didn’t in _Harry’s._

He did go for that cheeky grab of her chest, having completely blocked out the few people that wandered the second floor, and was thrilled to find it well received. Steph moaned into his mouth and rocked her body against his, everything between them signifying that they were going to be getting laid tonight, or at the very least, Harry was getting blown. Sweet.

That was until they were interrupted. Not by another wolf whistle or lippy comment by a passer-by, but by a guy actually looking for Steph, trying to tell her that Katie (whoever that was) had fallen in the pool and was now lying on the grass like some wet dead body because she was on ecstasy or some shit. It sounded more like news for someone who was sober, not someone who tasted of vodka and was quite clearly horny, but Steph still gasped and apologised greatly to Harry, promising to find him again before she totted off on her heeled boots to go save the day.

The guy who had been the bearer of the bad news, presumably the one who had pulled this Katie out of the pool since he was dripping wet, just shrugged a “Sucks, dude,” at him before following after Steph. Yeah, it did suck.

But oh well. Harry wasn’t all that fazed. A little frustrated in a certain respect, but he would get over it.

Heading back downstairs, Harry didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Finding someone he knew was probably a good start, he figured. He wandered around aimlessly, keeping an eye out for anyone he recognised, when a hand landed on his shoulder after a few minutes. When he turned his head, he smiled at who he saw.

“Have you seen Taylor?” Karlie asked, which wasn’t quite what he had been expecting. “She said she was going to the bathroom ages ago and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Last I saw she was with Sam,” he told her. “They could be upstairs. Quite a few shut doors up there, if you know what I mean.”

Yeah, and he had probably been about to be behind one of them. Best he not mention that.

Karlie shook her head, her hair swishing side to side in her high ponytail. “Sam’s outside with me and Josh. None of us had seen you since we got here, we assumed she had found you. Wait, have you been kissing someone? Your lips are all red.”

Brushing his fingers over his plump lips, Harry laughed, obviously guilty. “I don’t kiss and tell. D’you want me to have a look around for Taylor? You can go back with the others, if you like.”

“Uhh, yeah, okay?” Karlie agreed, kind of surprised to have caught him like this. “We’re just out in the yard, can you bring her back out? I’m getting worried about her; she didn’t want to come tonight in the first place and she’s had a few drinks.”

“Sure,” he nodded, still not asking why exactly that was despite his curiosity. “Oh, hey, did you see a girl fall in the pool?”

“How’d you know about that?”

“How does anyone find out about anything at a party?” he laughed. “I’ll find her, promise.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Karlie smiled with a hint of unease, rightfully so. If anyone was to be the one to find Taylor, it really should’ve been her. Harry wasn’t the one she needed to see right now, but neither of them knew that yet.

Parting ways, Harry went to scout the second floor, though he was sure he wouldn’t find Taylor there. He checked the few rooms that sounded empty, regretting that decision when he didn’t come across her but instead a quiet couple that he really did not need to walk in on like that. Back downstairs, he weaved his way through the throngs of people lingering around and still dancing to that loud music, not seeing any sign of her. He checked his phone, but there was no message from her saying she’d left early. No wonder Karlie was concerned.

While she obviously wasn’t out in the backyard, Harry figured he might as well check the front. He was hit with the cooler air when he stepped through the door; it was kind of refreshing to step out from the bustle of the party. He slipped his hands in his pockets as he walked down the path, the sound of the music inside becoming a dull thumping the further down he went. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, even in the surrounding homes there were few lights on. Harry still looked down both ends of the street, thankful he bothered to check: sitting on the curb at the neighbouring house, he saw the blonde bob he had become so familiar with, her silhouette immediately recognisable. Bingo.

In hindsight, he probably should’ve given her some warning as he approached, a call of her name or something, because he freaked her the fuck out when she suddenly heard footsteps coming towards her. Taylor whipped her head around, clearly frightened by the unexpected sound. She glanced him over, quickly registering who it was sneaking up on her, though she didn’t perk up like he was so used to her doing. She cast her eyes back on the road in front of her, for the first time _not_ looking happy to see him.

“You okay?” Harry asked her.

“I’m fine,” Taylor lied unsuccessfully.

“You don’t look fine.”

“I just needed some air.”

Harry sat himself down beside her on the verge, leaving a comfortable gap between them. Taylor hugged her legs to her chest, not turning to look at him. While it was dark out, she was still visibly upset, her eyes glistening like she had been crying. This was a territory they had been yet to explore together. In the back of his mind, Harry wished he hadn’t had anything to drink so that he might be of clearer help.

“What’s really going on?” he asked her gently.

“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled back.

“If you’re upset, it matters,” he contended. “Why didn’t you want to come tonight?”

“Because I don’t like Steph.”

“Why not? She seems–”

“She’s a bitch!”

If there was any indication that Taylor was intoxicated and distressed, it was that. He’d never heard her snap like that, nor had he heard her call someone something like that before. She was always so friendly and polite; it was an odd contrast to see her now.

“But I guess you wouldn’t understand that, would you?” she challenged bitterly.

Harry frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s pretty hard to see why someone’s a bitch when you’ve just had your tongue down their throat.”

Taylor glared at him, the heat in it completely perplexing to him. Harry just blinked back at her, not knowing what to say. It’s not like he could argue with that.

“You know, she only kissed you out in the open like that because she _wanted_ people to see,” she unkindly informed him. “She’s conceited, she loves the attention, and she just wanted everyone to see that _she_ could get with you. She hates me!”

“What have _you_ got to do with it? Are you suggesting that she would only want to be with me because of _you?”_

“You could’ve hooked up with _anyone_ else at that party and I would’ve said _‘good for you, Harry’_ , why the fuck did you have to pick _her?”_

“I didn’t _hook up_ with her. And _she_ came onto _me.”_

“And why do you think that is?”

Harry shook his head, looking away from her. He was utterly confused. This wasn’t the conversation he was expecting to have at all. He wasn’t a fan of it in the slightest.

“Why did you even bother coming if you knew you weren’t going to enjoy it?” he questioned her over that rather than over why she was implying that he had only been kissed to spite her.

“Because I had to keep a leash on my boyfriend!” Taylor retorted sharply. “Last year it was him, this year it was you. I should’ve seen this coming; why am I so stupid?”

_“Hey.”_ Harry softened, naturally reaching his hand out to reassuringly rest on her knee. Thank god she didn’t push him away. “You’re not stupid. But I do have no idea what you’re on about.”

Taylor sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. Having released some of her anger, whether rightfully on Harry or not, she was left with her dejection, which at least wasn’t so confronting to have projected on him.

“Last year, I don’t know whether it was her who started it or if it was someone else, but there was this game of spin the bottle,” she began to explain. “I obviously didn’t want to play because, like– it’s just not what people in relationships do, they don’t play those kinds of dumb games. But she somehow roped Sam into playing it and she had to kiss him and I was _right there_ – I saw the whole thing and she just– she _looked_ at me after, just totally _smug_ about it, about kissing _my_ boyfriend and I just– it felt like he didn’t even _care_ –”

Taylor stopped as tears started dripping down her cheeks, and Harry instantly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. She leaned against him, her head resting against his shoulder and her arms sliding around his waist as she sought after comfort from the hurtful memory.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry murmured to her supportively. Had he known about that, he would’ve never followed Steph’s advances. Not to mention how fucking _awful_ he now found Sam. How could anyone do that to someone as all-round spectacular as Taylor? He didn’t deserve her.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Taylor apologised, her voice wavering. “I didn’t mean it; I just don’t want her to take you from me too.”

Her shoulders shook as she tried to hold back from crying, letting it out when Harry slipped his hand up into her hair, holding her head against his shoulder and trying to comfort her as best as he could. Through his guilt for unintentionally making out with the worst stranger he could’ve possibly picked and his confusion over whether or not Taylor was jealous in a hidden more-than-friends kind of way, he knew with all his being that she deserved someone better than who she had. Whether it had been a meaningless one-time mistake or not, it had been a dick move on Sam’s part. She should’ve broken up with him for it, especially since it didn’t seem like she completely trusted him, if all this was anything to go by. Love was blind, he guessed, and it seemed to leave genuinely nice guys like Harry in the dust.

“No one could possibly replace you,” Harry promised her, the extent of his honesty not quite getting through to her, which was probably for the best. He massaged her scalp gently with his fingertips and she hugged him tighter.

“You mean that?”

“Of course.”

They stayed on the curb like that for a few minutes, just wrapped up together in a bid for comfort. Harry wished there was something more he could do, something that would actually make things right, but he couldn’t think of anything realistic. It’s not like he could just take back his own actions, let alone that of others. All he had to give was his best reassurances. Maybe – _hopefully_ – that would be enough.

“Can I take you home, love?” Harry asked softly.

Taylor pulled away from him, wiping under her eyes and avoiding looking into his. “I don’t want to upset Sam by just leaving.”

“Why would he be upset?”

“I don’t know, he just would.”

“Is there something else going on between you two?”

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “No, I’m just– I’m just being stupid; I wanna go home.”

“Stop saying that, you’re lovely,” Harry assured her, and just as he’d hoped she cracked a small laugh despite herself. Taylor met his gaze and smiled at him with fondness, the best look he’d received all night.

“ _You’re_ lovely,” she countered, bumping her shoulder against his gently and frowning a little when he started shifting on the spot. “What’re you doing?”

“Well do you want to _walk_ home?” Harry laughed as he pulled his phone out from his pocket, waving it at her before tapping in his passcode and shooting Karlie a text to let her know he had found Taylor. He got a very thankful reply in record time, as well as an offer to drive them home since Taylor clearly wasn’t in any state to be jumping back into the party. It would’ve been more convenient for the two of them just to get a taxi, but Karlie was set on her designated driver duties and wasn’t going to let her upset best friend leave in any other car.

The way home was silent. From when Karlie emerged onto the street and greeted Taylor with a long hug, none of them spoke a word as they headed down the street to where she had parked her car earlier, not even as they drove back to the apartment block they had been picked up from. The radio was on but neither Harry nor Taylor were paying attention to it, not like they normally did when they were together. It was a simple yet strange little difference, one that shouldn’t have mattered but somehow did. Harry just really hoped she was okay, that _they_ were okay.

Karlie broke the quiet when they pulled up outside their building. She leaned across and hugged Taylor again as best as she could. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep, babe,” she said to her, watching with worry still laced in her eyes as Taylor thanked her and climbed out of the passenger side. She turned to Harry in the back seat and smiled at him gratefully. “Please make sure she gets in okay,” she needlessly requested, Harry promising he would before he too thanked her for the ride and said goodbye.

Harry and Taylor took to the stairs and made a slow ascent. His hand rested on the small of her back, keeping her steady on the way and unknowingly sending a flood of warmth through her body from the careful touch, a feeling she would continue to pretend didn’t exist.

They finally stopped outside her door, an unsure moment falling between them until Taylor spoke quietly.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“I’ll wash your shirt for you,” she offered, running her fingers lightly over his shoulder, the fabric stained with her smudged make-up. He hadn’t even noticed.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” she insisted, chewing her lip a little before she said the other thing she felt like she needed to say. “You can kiss whoever you want, y’know? I didn’t mean to get upset with you over it, it’s just– yeah, um, it’s her I have a problem with, not you. I don’t want you to think you can’t be with who you want to be with just because of me. That was wrong of me, I’m sorry.”

How painfully ironic it was that he _couldn’t_ be with the one he really wanted because of her, because it _was_ her and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

“I’m not interested in her,” Harry made sure she knew. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s not that good of a kisser.”

Taylor struggled to hold back a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughed. “Um, are you going to be alright? I can stay with you, if you’d like.”

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed, but thanks,” she smiled at him softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe? If you’re not doing anything?”

“I’d like that.”

Taylor stepped into a hug, holding onto him for a little too long and giving him the stupid idea to press a soft kiss to her cheek when they pulled apart. He’d never done that before and it left them both understandably stunned.

“What was that for?” she asked, the look in her eyes shining with curiosity rather than horror over why he would possibly think to cross that kind of line between them.

“Well…” Harry began slowly, swallowing as he tried to find words. “I can’t properly kiss you and, um, I’d like to go to bed knowing the last person I kissed was worth it.”

If this was a movie, this would definitely be the part where they would say screw you to everything else and just kiss for real because it was what they both really, really wanted. But this wasn’t a movie, and all Taylor did was blush and mumble a goodnight before hurrying into her apartment.

Instead, Harry went to bed thinking he’d managed to make another mistake, not knowing he had made her heart race in the best possible way.


	4. Chapter Four

“You’ve totally changed it.”

“I have not!”

“He sounds exactly like him and you know it!”

“He does not!”

The last Thursday in June was a sunny one, a day that deserved to be spent outdoors at a cute café, sipping coffee and looking altogether contented.

When Harry arrived late, he found Taylor and Karlie talking animatedly over whatever was open on the laptop sitting between them on the table. They didn’t notice him coming until he was pulling out the empty chair at the table for three.

“Sorry I’m late, I didn’t know how long it would take to get here,” he apologised as he sat down, all smiles at the girls. “What have I missed?”

“Nothing,” Taylor answered perkily but far too quickly, slamming shut the lid on the MacBook that was obviously hers, the cat sticker on the white finish giving her away.

“Taylor’s novel,” Karlie cheekily revealed, earning herself a warning stare from the blonde beside her.

_“Oh,_ the mysterious novel, eh?” Harry grinned teasingly.

Taylor’s novel was a top secret project. It was something she had been working on for… god knows how long. She added to it on and off, in between her assignments and the other thousand ideas that bounced around in that head of hers. When she would finish it was anyone’s guess, but until then the details of what it entailed were kept tight lipped. Harry had seen her scribble down notes on paper or tap them out on her phone before she forgot them, but had never laid eyes on the elusive Word document. He was kind of surprised she’d shown Karlie, considering her general secrecy surrounding the subject, but she had to get _someone’s_ opinion.

“When’s the world going to get to read this masterpiece?” he asked, honestly curious despite his playful tone.

“Not anytime soon,” Taylor disappointingly informed him.

“Not when you keep making so many changes,” Karlie called her out.

“They were minor tweaks and they were completely necessary.”

“How is changing your character to be exactly like–”

“My characters are not _based_ off anyone. There are many common character traits and any similarities between my characters and real people are completely coincidental.”

Harry looked between the two of them, amused if not entirely confused about what was going on. “What am I missing here, exactly?”

Karlie turned to him to help back up her side of the argument, without exactly explaining to him what that was. “Do you think that writers write about people that they love?”

“Karlie!” Taylor gasped.

“It’s a valid question.”

“Um,” Harry glanced at Taylor’s panicked expression, her desperation for the conversation to change direction blatantly obvious. “I think writers find inspiration from lots of different things. I suppose it _can_ be easier to write about people you love, ‘cause of the way you see them and all, but it could just be all imagination of someone you’d _like_ to love. Like, your dream person. If that makes sense.”

“That makes perfect sense. Can we order now? I’m starving,” Taylor found a convenient way out of the discussion, pushing her chair out and standing up before either of them had answered. They followed suit as she slid her laptop back into her bag and started heading for the door to the café, sharing a glance as she walked ahead of them.

“I love your glasses,” Harry complimented Karlie as she slid them up on top of her head when they stepped inside, the rose gold sunglasses not quite so shiny out of the sun but still pretty regardless.

“Thanks, I just got them,” the taller blonde smiled at him.

It took a couple of minutes for them to each make up their minds and purchase their desired lunches. Thankfully nobody took their table in the meantime, the trio sliding back into their seats outdoors with a number now marking the table. Bags settled back on the ground and sunglasses dropped back over each set of eyes, a contentedness grew between them. These kinds of outings were common for the girls, Harry’s invitation coming as a surprise to him. He would’ve been daft to turn it down.

“How’s work going?” Taylor asked him, leaning forward and propping her chin up on her hand.

“Good, yeah,” Harry nodded. “Pretty normal day, really.”

He was on his lunch break, having hurried his way over to the café the girls had chosen. It wasn’t that far from the office, but he had underestimated the time it would take for him to walk there just a _tad,_ not that they seemed to mind. They could sit there and talk for hours, probably would since they had no other commitments for the day.  

“All ready for your deadline?” she checked thoughtfully.

“Everything’s pretty much done, I think,” he confirmed. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.”

Things between the two of them had returned to normal since their unanticipated encounter at the party on the weekend, thank god. It wasn’t mentioned again – it was like they were just pretending it hadn’t happened. Taylor hadn’t said anything about Sam either, so who knew what that meant. Harry didn’t know whether to ask, not after that accidental kiss on the cheek that should definitely never be brought up again. God, what had he been _thinking?_

They were back to their usual way: the comfortable interactions that sometimes bordered on flirtatiousness, skirting around the notion that their natural connection could lead to something more than what they were. Granted, that might not be the _best_ thing for them to be, but it was all they knew.

Their lunches didn’t take long to arrive at their table, each picked at between conversation. It was nice for Harry to be included; he got along with the girls well, always enjoyed being around them whenever he could. It was getting a bit easier being here so far away from home now that he had some close friends, some people who wanted to hang out outside of work. New York wasn’t quite so… _immense_ when he wasn’t all on his own.

Would it ever really be home to him? He doubted it. But lately he was finding more and more reasons to stay as long as he could.

One of them was the kind miss who had diverted their conversation to ask if she could try a bit of his salad that was apparently taunting her with its freshness, but he wasn’t going to go into that.

“It’s _so_ good,” Taylor enthused through her mouthful, her eyes wide behind her sunglasses. “I should’ve gotten it instead.”

Harry smiled at her. “Can I have a taste of yours?”

There they were, Harry taking a bite of her croissant while Taylor went for another forkful of his lunch, with Karlie sitting there watching the two of them in contemplative amusement. He argued hers tasted fine, albeit his honey mustard chicken and avocado salad being far superior. Taylor poked him in the arm with the prongs of his own fork and stole another piece from his bowl, chastised for taking one of the few bits of bacon and not giving a toss when she popped it in her mouth with a satisfied smile. Watching them when they were as natural with each other as this was kind of fascinating, actually.

“When did you two get so… domestic?” Karlie mused, her teasing getting both sets of eyes darting to hers.

“Since she started feeding me all the time,” Harry was quick to shoot back, flashing Taylor a winning grin that she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like.

“I do feed you an alarming amount,” Taylor had to agree.

“But you’re rewarded with my fantastic company.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

Harry nudged his knee against hers under the table and Taylor nudged him back, her easy smile one he would never tire of. Their relaxed nature only seemed to prove Karlie’s point.

“Are you coming on Monday?” Karlie asked him, and he nodded.

“Sure. If I’m welcome, that is.”

“No promising that you won’t be teased mercilessly,” Taylor grinned at him playfully.

The Fourth of July weekend was another occasion that Harry had surprisingly been extended invitations for. He knew it was probably for the comic factor, if not because it would’ve been kind of mean not to invite him when _everyone_ else was. He didn’t really care – a party was a party, and if he was going to be bombarded by stars and stripes and love for the land of the free then so be it.

Besides, he _might’ve_ had an idea or two up his sleeve for the day.

They finished their lunch over discussing what the girls needed to do for the holiday. They had appointed themselves in charge of, well, _everything._ By the sounds of it, they were good organisers, perhaps the best out of the lot of them for the job. It was going to be a pretty party, if their list of decorations was anything to go by. Harry was pretty keen, to be honest.

Unlike them, he couldn’t sit there for the rest of the day, as much as he would’ve liked to, and he soon had to bid them goodbye so he could make it back to work before his break got a little too long. The blondes waved him off, but he didn’t get far before Taylor called out, “Text me later!”

Yeah, things were good.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

By Monday, Harry didn’t really need any more American Independence thrusted upon him.

He’d slept through most of Sunday after quite the eventful night out on Saturday with the gang from work. He _wished_ he could recall everything that had happened, but their bar hopping adventure had left the lot of them far too drunk to remember all the details of their wild antics. Just ask the sparkly red party hat hanging precariously on top of the lampshade in Harry’s bedroom and the fresh ink on his right arm.

At least by Monday he had rested it off, ready for another round of it on the holiday itself. With it being at a house and not another string of bars, he wasn’t going to get that drunk again. _Probably._

Taylor arrived at his door at half past ten, which would’ve been awful had she done so a day earlier. A smile instantly spread across her face when he opened up, laughing an “Oh my _god”_ when she took in his look for the day.

Now, he _could’ve_ dressed up in anything American, but where was the fun in that? Instead, Harry was donning a football jersey – proper, European football, that is – and a pair of swim shorts with the Union Jack printed on them that he would never think of wearing on an average day. He had some Nikes on his feet, at least.

“Happy Independence Day to you, too,” Taylor laughed at him. Of course, she was dressed far more appropriately: under her white denim shorts and red and white striped tank top was a bikini printed with her own country’s flag, her lips painted her signature red and even the star-printed bag she was carrying matching her outfit. She was all-American and all _gorgeous,_ if you asked Harry.

“Unfortunately I don’t have one of those red soldier’s coats, otherwise I would’ve worn that instead,” he joked, grinning back at her.

Taylor held back a giggle. “What’s in the bag?”

“Just some stuff for tomorrow. Oh, and my contribution to the party.”

Unzipping the backpack he had hooked over one shoulder, Harry delved inside and pulled out a cheeky box of tea bags. It had the pair of them bursting into laughter in the doorway, Taylor’s head tilting back in honest hilarity. Hers was the reaction that mattered most to him, and boy, did he love that.

“You are amazing, Harry,” Taylor complimented with a sparklingly bright smile, making his stomach flip. “C’mon.”

She held her hand out to him and it was after he put the box back in his bag and went to accept her gesture that her expression suddenly changed, astonishment written all over her face when she took a proper look at his arm. “Oh my _god,_ Harry! When did you do _that?!”_

“Um,” Harry laughed, honestly unsure of the exact answer. “Saturday got a little out of hand.”

It had been a joke, he was sure. Some messing around between him and Jared, probably Eric and Connor too, that would’ve simply been laughed off had they been sober. But in their intoxicated states, it had apparently seemed like a _fantastic_ idea to drop into any tattoo parlour that had the time to actually seriously draw an eagle on his body forever. Thank god it had actually turned out good, otherwise the permanent picture on his forearm that wasn’t exactly small would’ve been a _really_ shit decision. Trying to cover it up would be a nightmare, significantly harder than the writing he had almost carelessly concealed underneath, but fortunately he quite liked it. It could’ve been much worse, that’s for sure.

“You got a tattoo while you were _drunk?”_ Taylor said in disbelief. “Are you _insane?_ You could’ve ended up with _anything.”_

“Is this you politely trying to tell me you think it’s shit?” Harry asked her, mainly teasing.

“No,” she quickly assured him. “No, it’s just– I’m surprised, that’s all. And I liked what you had there before.”

“Maybe I needed you there to talk some reason into me, then.”

“I can promise you I won’t let you get another tattoo today, or any others when you’re drunk and I’m with you.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Stupid shit, apparently,” Taylor teased him, laughing again as she pulled him out through his door. “C’mon, you _have_ to see what we’ve done to the place.”

 

*** * * * ***

 

Harry had never been to the house Karlie and Josh shared before, but as soon as Taylor had turned into their street he knew it was going to be a nice place. She pulled into the driveway of a well-landscaped residence, a two-storey one that wasn’t huge but certainly had plenty of room for the two of them living there. Karlie opened the door for them, dressed with the same patriotism as Taylor, and the effort they had gone into preparing the place the day before was evident as soon as they stepped inside: red, white and blue balloons hung in bunches of three in each corner of the living room, a party banner of American flags hanging across the top of the feature wall. The red streamers that hung with the balloons were looped around the rail of the staircase too, and the kitchen also had a bunch of the balloons bobbing above the countertop. Outside was where the real party was going to be, and with plenty of streamers and balloons tied around the deck there was definitely the right atmosphere for it.

It was Taylor who insisted upon giving Harry a tour of the house. She led him through the mostly open plan downstairs before bringing him up to the second floor, which had a study he briefly got a peek at and two bedrooms, only one of which she brought him into. “This is my room,” she joked as they entered the guest room, where the both of them left their bags for safe keeping. Back downstairs, she showed him the decorated yard that had a very inviting-looking pool taking up a good part of the space, as well as an especially excited little dog that was keen to meet new people like Harry. All in all, they looked set for a fun day.

They spent the half an hour before anyone else was set to arrive double-checking that everything was ready the way they wanted it to be. Well, Taylor and Karlie did – Harry and Josh were sat outside with beers already like typical men, letting the women do all the work of making sure their food was all good to go for when they needed it.

With the rest of the squad mostly arriving in groups, it wasn’t long before things got going. Josh was soon set on grill duty, while Taylor was showing off her creative talents with some face paints. Sitting on laps and down on the bricked deck, she gave everyone who asked some not so permanent pictures, ones that would wash off at the end of the day – or more likely, when they later hit the pool.

She made Harry take his shirt off when she decided it was his turn to be decorated. It might not have been weird for the two of them, especially considering that comfortable night they had spent drawing all over each other, but it was understandable that they got one very wary glance shot their way as Taylor got him to twist his chair towards her and she kneeled down in front of him so she could draw on his bare torso. Harry probably wouldn’t have been entirely happy with it if he were Sam either, but he wasn’t, so he really didn’t give a shit.

Using red and white paint, Taylor drew alternating lines like on the flag on either side of his butterfly tattoo. She outlined the new one on his arm with confetti-like strokes, perched herself on his lap so that she could draw on his face with his permission. On one cheek, she painted a copy of the Union Jack and surrounded it with stars, and with thanks to him having worn his hair pulled back in a bun, she added a red ‘T’ behind his ear, something just for the two of them to properly understand.

“Welcome to America,” Taylor whispered in his ear, smiling and leaving him to look at her handiwork on his face with the front camera on his phone. If only his friends back home were here to see this.

The pictures that were taken over their lunch of perfectly grilled burgers, topped with free choice of fillings thanks to handy little bowls of stuff Karlie had cut up earlier, were mostly unforgiving shots that should have been deleted. Nobody looked good mid-bite, and anyone who thought it was nice to whip out their iPhone for some food pics of anything but the meal itself on the festive paper plates (ahem, _Emilia_ ) should have gotten it taken off them. But no, they were already being featured on Snapchat, like everyone else who was spending the day celebrating.

Taylor went around taking Polaroids of some of her body paintings once they began finishing up with the food, taking one of each of the three she had done on Harry. She was sporting some illustrations herself too, thanks to Karlie volunteering to lend a steady hand and draw a flag on her cheek and a red and white heart on her arm. They were a cutely patriotic-looking bunch, if you ignored Harry, which apparently wasn’t going to happen.

He _was_ teased. He had some friendly banter thrown his way, much like he had on Saturday night. It was easy to take, as it was to quip back with playfully sarcastic remarks of his own. In a weird kind of way, it helped him feel like he was a part of it all. Like he meant something to the group.

The music that was playing in the background all day was all themed, of course. Anything mentioning America was put onto the playlist – ‘Party in the USA’ was included multiple times, but when the girls were putting their hands up and nodding their heads and moving their hips it was hard to argue that that was a bad thing.

Once their lunches had safely settled in their stomachs, the sun-glinted pool started getting some use. From neat dives to splashy cannonballs, the grandest entrance was made by Harry, who, with a running start, did a front flip that made the biggest waves so far. There was squealing and laughing; he didn’t know Taylor filmed it, where many more people would see his playful acrobatics online.

The pool wasn’t _quite_ big enough to make the best use of the selection of inflatables that had been blown up in advance, but that certainly wasn’t going to stop them. Between the giant swan and the bright yellow duck, there wasn’t a great deal of room left for anyone else, but it was entertaining watching the people on board bump around and try to knock each other off to crown victory.

The beach ball got kicked and thrown around in and out of the pool, Josh volunteering to go and collect it when it ended up flying over the fence into the neighbour’s yard. Thankfully everyone around seemed to be celebrating too – it didn’t matter how rowdy they got, and as the day went on and more beers were cracked open it was destined to get noisy.

Taylor had Harry up and dancing with her when the song she had added especially for him came on. Harry had looked at her the instant he recognised the intro, and Taylor was grinning as she hurried over to pull him up out of the chair he was taking a break in.

“Finally, I’m being represented,” Harry teased, thrilled by her delighted smile as she dragged him onto the grass.

“Couldn’t have you feeling left out, could I?”

What he was feeling was far from it, especially as he found himself singing along to The 1975’s ‘She’s American’ with Taylor, much like it was just the two of them in one of their apartments with the stereo on. They danced around together on the grass with little regard for anyone else – although, Harry was a little less wildly enthusiastic than she often was, but he _did_ wrap his arms around her bare waist as she threw hers around his neck and girlishly bent her knee, the pair of them holding each other far too close as they loudly sung their favourite line, _“Don’t fall in love with the moment and think you’re in love with the girl,”_ so it was quite clear he didn’t exactly give a shit whether anyone was watching them. It didn’t seem to matter what anyone else thought, anyway. The two of them were happy with their friendship, and that was that.

They featured in many pictures together throughout the day, perhaps his favourite the one taken after he had oh so kindly pushed her into the pool and she had climbed out to chase after him, both of them frozen in laughter as they laid side by side on their backs after the pursuit had landed them play tackling on the grass. It was true to them, just as the staged one with their arms around each other and Taylor’s head resting on his shoulder as they sat together was.

As the sun began to fall and the light diminished, Harry obviously wasn’t the one Taylor cuddled up to. She sat up close to Sam over their delicious dinner that featured perfectly barbequed chicken and quite possibly the best potato salad ever made, gracefully balanced on his lap when the impressive cake she and Karlie had baked and iced to look like the American flag was served for dessert. She was wrapped up in his arms when someone started setting off fireworks nearby, kissing him while everyone else watched the illicit display in the night sky.

Teo offered him an understanding smile when he noticed Harry purposely looking back up at the sky after glancing their way, but it couldn’t make up for his pang of longing to be the one she was romantically enveloped in under the sparkly red fireworks. He swallowed the useless thought down.

They were into the early hours of the morning when they decided to crash, sleepover style with all but Karlie and Josh spread out across the lounge. On the couches and blankets on the floor, they each had their own resting place, some more comfortable than others.

Harry was lucky enough to score one of the couches, mostly because he had been sitting there at the time, and after Taylor smiled him a goodnight from her place on the floor he was fast asleep almost as soon as his eyes shut, tuckered out from the day’s excitement.

 

*** * * * ***

“Hey, sunshine.”

Harry murmured, burying his head further into the pillow. He felt fingers brush through his tangled hair, trying to sweep it away from his face, but he really didn’t feel like rising.

“You’re gonna be late if you don’t get up,” the sweet familiar voice tried to tell him. “There are threats that you’ll get a bucket of water thrown on you if you don’t wanna get up on your own. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No,” he huffed, still feeling half asleep as he rolled over onto his back and found Taylor smiling softly down at him. Her fingertips ran down his cheek and he could’ve easily believed he was still dreaming.

“There’s pancakes,” Taylor told him quietly. “Can I fix you a plate?”

Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes once she headed off over to the kitchen where the unlucky few of them who had things to do today were already up and congregating. Whose bright idea had it been to party the day before they had to work, anyway?

While he had ignored the buzzing of his alarm on his phone he had tucked under his pillow, it wasn’t _really_ that much later; he did appreciate Taylor’s thoughtfulness in waking him up, as much as he would’ve rather slept all day and gone into work the next.

Careful not to step on anyone still sleeping on the floor, Harry tiptoed his way to the bathroom, slumping into a dining chair after discovering he looked as much in need of more rest as he felt he did.

Maddy, sitting across from him, smiled at him with equal weariness. “Coffee?”

“I’d like some tea, actually,” he said, spying the box of tea bags he had brought and been playfully scorned for sitting open on the kitchen counter. Only inches away sat a mug and a half-eaten plate of pancakes, right next to where Taylor was dusting a full stack with sugar.

“This tea isn’t as good as your usual one,” Taylor claimed, as if she could tell he was watching her and had been about to say something. She turned and started towards him to hand him his plate. “I see we’re not worthy of one of your _fancy_ boxes.”

Harry grinned at the cheekiness in her eyes. “Think I’d risk one of you dumping my good stuff in the pool?”

It wasn’t exactly cheap (or necessary) to import his favourite brand of tea from back home, you know.

As Taylor headed back over towards the kettle, he went to stand up. “I can do that,” he said, but she waved him off.

“You eat. I know how you like it.”

And so Harry starting tucking into his pancakes while Taylor made him a cup of tea, as apparently she’d done with everyone else who was awake – the mother of the group.

Keeping their talking to a minimum over their breakfast, the few of them took turns in the bathroom freshening up for the day. Harry had brought a change of clothes in his backpack, something more office appropriate than Union Jack shorts, and took a super quick shower to cleanse himself of all of yesterday’s chlorine. He felt refreshed and perhaps like he could actually be decently productive.

Both he and Maddy had scored a ride with Taylor, thanks to her characteristic generosity. The only reason she was even up was because Sam had mistakenly disturbed her when he had gotten up, and after she had helped him get ready and kissed him goodbye she could’ve very well just gone back to sleep, yet she seemed to be compelled to offer her kindness to everyone else too. Nobody was messing around with getting the bus on her watch.

They dropped Maddy off at a department store; she looked much more put together in her uniform and her wet hair pulled back into a bun, some mascara and clever dabs of concealer instantly brightening her complexion. It wasn’t a great deal far from his office, leaving him and Taylor a bit of time to chat by themselves.

“Thanks for all this, Tay,” Harry smiled at her when they eventually pulled up near his building.

“I’ll come and pick you up later,” Taylor promised, pointing her finger at him firmly when he opened his mouth. “Don’t even _think_ of arguing.”

“You’ve already gone out of your way for me,” he still said.

“That’s what friends are for. Now go, do your thing.”

Harry obliged, the two of them smiling goodbye. He headed upstairs and found the office unsurprisingly unfilled, the motivation to be there summed up perfectly by Jared resting his head on the desk with nothing constructive open around him. Harry frightened him by sneaking up behind him and giving him a hug, laughing as the older male jolted in his arms.

“Fuck off, Styles.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Why are you so chirpy?”

With a grin, it was easy to sum up how he felt after the eventful long weekend: “I love New York.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

An alarm that was most definitely not the all too familiar chime of ‘Marimba’ woke Harry on Thursday night. Well, Friday morning. According to the clock on his phone, it was nearly 2am and a loud, repetitive beeping sound was going off. Who was doing that at this hour?

It took Harry a moment to come to his senses and realise that what he was hearing was the ring of a fire alarm. Scrambling out of bed, he flicked the light on and rushed to find a pair of pants, opting for his easy to pull on sweats. He shoved his feet into his sneakers, pretending that he didn’t find it unpleasant without socks on, slid his phone in his pocket, turned off the light, checked _he_ wasn’t the asshole who had set something on fire at such an ungodly hour, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.

Sensibility should’ve had him proceeding down the stairwell, but instead he stopped to knock on Taylor’s door, assuming she hadn’t already left.

He heard a commotion coming from inside before Taylor swung the door open, looking pissed as she immediately held a cat out to him. “Take her,” she instructed, passing Olivia over and turning back to grab Meredith, who hadn’t appreciated being disturbed either. She was squirming in Taylor’s arms when she reappeared, the blonde fumbling with her keys as she struggled between the door and the upset feline.

Harry offered to take her things for her, carrying her keys and her phone in his other pocket so she had her hands free to keep hold of Meredith. The last thing they needed was to be chasing after a cat when they were meant to be _evacuating._

“God, what would I do without you?” Taylor muttered, glancing at him through a pair of brown-rimmed glasses and offering a small smile.

Together they hurried down the stairs and out to the parking lot where a bunch of other residents had already started to gather. Having lived there longer, Taylor was better acquainted with more of their neighbours, and despite asking an older lady with a yellow nightgown on who lived on the floor below them if she knew what was going on, they didn’t learn the answer. Nobody knew, apparently.

They wandered over to where Taylor had parked her car, leaning against the back as they began their wait. Looking up at the windows on this side of the building didn’t offer any clues, all black rather than glowing with orange flames. That was probably a good thing, really, but it also would’ve been nice to know that they hadn’t been disrupted thanks to something as small as someone burning their toast, which, according to Taylor, wouldn’t be the first time.

“I really like your glasses, by the way,” Harry complimented her, watching her raptly as she hugged Meredith to her chest, the shine from the nearby security light illuminating her prettily. “They look nice on you.”

“You really don’t have to say that,” Taylor told him, her disbelieving tone coming as a bit of a surprise to him. “They’re embarrassing. I only grabbed them so I wouldn’t be running around like a crazy blind lady.”

In all the time he had known Taylor, all the times he had stayed over at hers for the night, Harry had never actually seen her wear her glasses. He knew she wore contacts, had assumed she just preferred them over glasses. It hadn’t occurred to him that she had always avoided wearing them in front of him because she was _self-conscious._

“How bad are your eyes, anyway?” he asked out of interest.

“Here,” she said, taking her glasses off and carefully sliding them onto his face, trying not to poke him with the ends. She watched him as he instantly frowned, his eyelashes fluttering as he tried to blink his eyes into focus once his vision blurred with her lenses in front of them.

“Whoa,” he uttered.

Taylor looked around, squinting through the dark. “I’m struggling to read license plates right now. I’d probably be fine in daylight, though.”

“No wonder you’ve always got your contacts in,” Harry noted, relieved when she took her glasses back and he could see properly again.

“The worst is falling asleep with them in,” she spoke with a disapproving wrinkle of her nose. “Or when they move on your eye during the day. That’s not fun.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just wear glasses?”

“They don’t look good on me, though,” she insisted. “No one’s ever said, _‘Wow, Taylor, you look so much better with glasses on_.’”

“Wow, Taylor, you look so much better with glasses on,” Harry cheekily repeated, smiling broadly when she looked at him with reluctant amusement.

“That doesn’t count.”

“I think you look quite attractive with them on,” he dared to tell her, only to be brushed off.

“Please, you’re tired and you’re hardly wearing any clothes, you’d say that about any girl,” Taylor contended. “Speaking of, you might want to tie up your pants properly. It’s dark and I’m blind but I can see more than you probably want me to.”

She was stifling an immature giggle as Harry looked down at himself, discovering that his low-sitting sweats were showing off more than just a little hint of hair. He was careful in pulling them up and tying the string tighter, not wanting to drop Olivia who was resting contently in his arms. It would only occur to him later that she could’ve only noticed such a thing had she been consciously looking down there.

“Look at those two,” Taylor pointed out a couple who seemed to only just be exiting the building, wrapped up in robes and looking awkward and fidgety as they hovered away from the main group of residents.

“Doesn’t look like it was _sleep_ that was disturbed for them,” Harry mused, smiling as Taylor couldn’t hold back a giggle.

“That’s an awful walk of shame.”

Ironically, had this occurred the night before, it would’ve been Taylor in that position. It would’ve been all the more awkward with Harry standing around like an uncomfortable third wheel as Taylor and Sam pretended they hadn’t been fooling around, while he pretended he had never heard a thing. God, he was glad this hadn’t happened then.

The fire engine came and went to save whichever room it was that was apparently burning down, leaving them all to keep waiting patiently with tired yawns and unplanned small talk.

“Are you cold?” Harry asked as he noticed Taylor shuffle with Meredith in her arms, tugging the top of her white tank top up. They might’ve been in the middle of summer, but it was hardly hot out at this time of night.

“Oh, no, um,” Taylor smiled shyly, the blush rising on her cheeks hidden in the darkness. “It’s just, this top’s really thin, and I don’t really want everyone we live around noticing that I’m not wearing a bra.” Harry’s eyes widened and she laughed as she glanced at him, pleased to see he hadn’t immediately tried to look at her chest. “You’ve gotta protect me from the creep next door. I hate to think what he’d think of these.”

Taylor turned around then, showing him the back of her tiny Victoria’s Secret shorts with ‘PINK’ written across her ass. “I don’t think you want to know what _I_ think of them,” Harry playfully teased, though he wasn’t wrong in saying so. If they didn’t have the cats or anyone nearby or someone across town who would not at all be impressed, he would probably have her pressed up against the car in a daring kiss by now. Or even better, cuddled up in the backseat.

She was laughing as she spun back to him. “Tell me,” she dared.

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Aww, c’mon. Please?”

“I think they look very nice on you,” Harry told her simply, skipping over all the inappropriate details that would make things way too weird between them.

“Thank you,” Taylor smiled at him, knowing that he wasn’t telling her everything but wisely not pressing him any further. Not that she didn’t _want_ to know…

It wasn’t much longer before they were cleared to go back inside. It turned out there _was_ an actual fire: someone on the sixth floor had managed to epically fail at making noodles and had set their stove alight, though they’d managed to get it under control before assistance had arrived. What a waste of time.

Harry and Taylor hung back while people started journeying back up to their rooms, saving her from any unwanted staring thanks to her cute pyjamas. She invited him inside her place since they were both wide awake by now, figuring it wouldn’t hurt for them to stay up a little longer in each other’s company.

They chatted for a while, having a nightly snack of shortbread biscuits ( _they_ wouldn’t start any fires) as they sat curled up on either end of the couch. The cats settled back to sleep in their usual spots, although Olivia had seemed quite happy to be held in Harry’s arms for the time they’d been outside. She always had quite liked him.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” Taylor asked him when she glanced up from her phone, stretching her leg out to nudge his. A short silence had fallen between them and he hadn’t really _meant_ to stare, but he always found her fascinating to watch, even when she was doing the simplest of things.

“I was just thinking it’s kind of sad that you don’t know how lovely you look, glasses and all,” Harry answered her softly, his honesty coming much easier when he wasn’t thinking anything unacceptable.

Taylor sunk herself further down, leaning her side against the back cushion of the couch. She looked at him, considered him, as she put her phone back down. “Do you really mean that?” she asked quietly, biting her lip when he nodded definitely.

“You should wear them more. At least, you should feel like you can when you’re around me.”

“I guess it’s kind of habit that I don’t,” Taylor told him, edging towards something he wasn’t expecting to hear. “I used to wear a pair occasionally, like, especially during exam time when I get tired and stressed, but… It’s going to sound _so_ stupid, but after Sam and I got together I stopped. He’s seen me in this pair once and he thought they looked dorky – I mean, they _are._ They’re so big and round and like, I don’t know, something old people in the seventies would wear. But y’know how at the start of a relationship you just want to impress the person you’re with? That’s how it was. I haven’t worn glasses in front of him since.”

Harry didn’t quite know what to say. She shrugged her shoulders and kept her eyes on him, as if she could read what he was thinking: that that was shit. That _no one_ had the right to make her feel like she couldn’t do everything she wanted.

“I just put my contacts in when I get up out of routine,” she continued on. “One morning I hadn’t done that – I don’t know why, I must’ve gotten distracted – but we were making breakfast and he asked me to check the expiry date on the milk. It was written so small, like I was just _squinting_ at this bottle of milk trying to figure out what it said.” She gave a small smile at the memory.

“What did you tell him?”

“Just that it was still good,” she laughed. “Thankfully it was.”

“Has it been the same with all your boyfriends?” Harry curiously asked.

“God, no,” Taylor assured him. “I was with this guy who loved when I wore them – my black ones, they’re sleeker. He had, like, this school girl fetish, it was kind of weird, actually.”

The both of them laughed at that; Harry couldn’t imagine her being interested in something like that. Although, she tended to be rather private about all that, so maybe she was. Perhaps one day he would get to find out.

“Is it okay if I ask you how many girls you’ve dated?” Taylor asked him, a question she had wondered but had been too polite to ask before.

“Um, not many,” Harry confessed. “Just a few.”

She nodded, smiling, “You seem like you’d make a good boyfriend. You’re really easy to talk to. Plus, you’re cute, so.”

Harry grinned, at her words and the sound of her giggle. “That’s nice of you to say,” he thanked her. “I think the same about you. But, as a good girlfriend, obviously.”

“Tell that to all my dumb ex-boyfriends,” Taylor almost laughed, swinging her legs off the couch and rising to her feet, holding her hand out to him. “We should probably get some sleep. Wanna stay with me?”

“I’d be honoured,” he agreed charmingly as he took her hand, watching fondly as she rolled her eyes and led him into her bedroom.

By the light of the lamp she flicked on, they climbed in on either side of her bed, settling together under the already slept in lightweight covers. Maybe the disruption hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

A late afternoon run had Harry feeling energized. Sweaty, yes, but the trip around the local park where a few kids had been enjoying the freedom Sunday provided had endorphins pumping all through his body. He felt _great._

Pulling his tank top over his head once he had made it back to his flat, Harry unplugged his headphones and connected his phone to the stereo sitting atop his bookshelf, letting his motivational playlist ring out loud. He bounded over to the kitchen, downing a large, refreshing glass of cold water to the sound of ‘Eye of the Tiger’. Now all he needed was a cleansing shower to top it off.

He was in the midst of taking off his sneakers when there was a knock on the door. With one socked foot, he bounced over to answer it, knowing before he opened it exactly who it would be; it was always her.

“Hey,” he grinned at the pretty blonde before him. “I was just about to have a shower.”

“I can come back,” Taylor suggested, about to step away until he opened the door wider for her.

“I won’t be long,” he assured her, letting her inside and sneaking a glance of her dress floating around her thighs, just like always.

“My hair could do with a wash, too, actually,” Taylor thought aloud, turning back to him on her bare feet.

“Wanna join me?” Harry cheekily, _jokingly_ offered, making her eyes widen and her jaw drop at such an unexpected proposition. She couldn’t think how to respond, could only laugh when he winked at her before he disappeared off into his bedroom.

It was dumb, actually – not that he had said such a thing, per se, but that now he had gotten the thought stuck in his head and instead of having the quick shower he was intending on, his body was craving something longer, something that properly developed the gorgeous fantasy of sharing a shower with Taylor.

It was only right to ignore the stupid goddamn hard on he had managed to give himself, because touching himself over the thought of her when she was literally _in the other room_ was more wildly inappropriate than he was comfortable with. His filthy imagination would just have to wait.

Harry didn’t look at all suspicious when he wandered back out, dressed in fresh clothes and smelling like soap rather than sweat. His long hair dripped water down his white t-shirt, and he could never have guessed that Taylor’s thoughts weren’t as clean as they should’ve been, either.

“I came by earlier but you weren’t around,” she smiled at him, twisting on the couch to look at him. “Have you had a nice day?”

“Yeah, actually,” Harry could easily say, strolling around to sit beside her. “Got a bit of work done earlier, felt like going for a run. ‘s good. How about you?”

“I got bored,” Taylor laughed. “I thought we could have dinner together or something.”

“You know I like the sound of that,” he grinned at her; he was never one to turn down spending time with her. “I don’t know what I have; I haven’t been to the shops in a couple days.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

A search through his kitchen proved that he was in need of a trip to the supermarket. “Well,” he said, closing the door of the freezer and leaning against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. “Are you interested in a gourmet meal of salad and chicken nuggets?”

The smile that grew on Taylor’s face told him yes before the nod of her head did. “I’m always interested in salad and chicken nuggets. Especially with you.”

The comfortable bond they shared was one the both of them were immeasurably grateful for. They needn’t do anything fancy to enjoy themselves together – their company alone was enough. They hadn’t even known each other for six months, and yet neither of them could imagine not having the other in their life. Harry especially couldn’t picture going back to being in this city without such a close friend to spend his free time with. Taylor was an absolute blessing to him, and while he might’ve wished that things could be a little different between them, he loved what they had.

Having someone to laugh over his choice of dinosaur-shaped nuggets was something he had only dreamed of having when he moved here. Having someone to talk to, someone to joke with, someone to do nothing with – Taylor had given him more than he could’ve asked for. She gave him a reason to want to stay here.

After their clearly sophisticated dinner, they found themselves settling in in front of the television, prolonging their departure; there was no hurry. They watched a couple of re-runs of _Law & Order_ (Harry knew better than to change the channel, not unless he wanted a punch in the arm) before they landed on a movie that Taylor said she liked.

“Are you alright?” Harry eventually asked her. She had been restless the whole time they’d been sitting there, fidgeting on the spot like she couldn’t seem to get comfortable. His lounge might not have been as soft as hers, but it didn’t usually bother her.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Taylor replied dismissively, only briefly glancing at him before her eyes returned to the screen.

“I didn’t poison you with dinner and you’re just being polite, right?” he said, half teasing, and he smiled as it made her laugh.

“No, it’s not that,” she assured him. “It’s just… _you know.”_ She looked at him meaningfully like he _should_ know, and when he just stared at her blankly she had to remind herself that she wasn’t talking to another girl. _“That time of the month,”_ she supplied, expecting the usual uncomfortable reaction men gave on the subject.

Instead, Harry was much more understanding.

_“Oh._ Oh, do you need anything?” he asked, immediately snapping into helpful mode. “I’ve got some aspirin or something, if you want?”

“No, thank you, I’m okay.”

“Hang on.”

“Harry, you really don’t have to–” she started to say, but he was already up and heading towards the kitchen, where he started filling the kettle. It was unnecessary, but Taylor couldn’t pretend that she didn’t appreciate his effort to make her feel more at ease. She watched him fondly as he made them both cups of tea and rummaged through the cupboard where he returned with a packet of chocolate biscuits, still gazing at him with that soft smile when he sat back in his spot beside her.

“What?” he asked warily when he noticed her looking, cradling his steaming mug in his hands.

Taylor shook her head, sighing at the affection for him running through her head. “You just never stop surprising me.”

Harry gave her a dimpled smile, and it was another one of the many moments where he could’ve easily kissed her. If only that were possible.

“If there’s anything else I can do, just let me know,” he happily offered her, his kindness meaning more than he quite knew.

It turned out the movie was quite good, as Taylor had first told him, only Harry found himself relating to it more than he really wanted to. There was something painfully ironic about watching a movie about someone being in love with their best friend who was engaged to be marrying someone else when Harry was literally sitting right there next to taken Taylor. All she needed was a ring on her finger and that could be _them._ Oh god, what if she _did_ get engaged?

Taylor cut him free of his tangled thoughts when she wistfully sighed, “It’s so romantic,” when the credits began to roll. He merely hummed in agreement, though she didn’t seem to mind; she was absorbed in the dreaminess in her head. “I hope that when I get married it’s not to the wrong person, but if I _was_ making the wrong choice, I hope the right one would come to stop me.”

If there was ever a great time to burst out and tell her that she had a shitty ass boyfriend and she could do better, it was then. She had set up the perfect segue, only Harry couldn’t find it in him to go through with it. It would only ruin the nice, relaxing time they’d been having, and the last thing he wanted was to have her pissed with him. Silence was easier.

“I’ve always wanted to marry my best friend,” Taylor smiled at him so beautifully, so hopefully. He knew with all his heart that she deserved to have her happy ending, whoever that might be with.

“I should probably go,” she went on to say. “I’m opening the store tomorrow so I’ve gotta be up early.”

“Sounds fun,” Harry teased. He escorted her to the door sooner than he really wanted to, though the tight hug she pulled him into seemed to make up for it.

“Thank you for a _lovely_ evening,” Taylor grinned at him.

“You’re very welcome, Tay,” Harry beamed back.

He wanted to marry his best friend, too. If only she knew.


	5. Chapter Five

Things continued on well until September, when Harry started to realise there was something not so nice going on behind closed doors.

It was a Friday night when Harry was in the midst of a heated debate over breakfast cereal in the group chat with his friends back home. Everything _seemed_ normal – if you could call their conversation that – but that was all about to change as soon as he answered the unexpected knock on the door.

Taylor was battling back tears when he opened his apartment up to her. “Can I come sit with you?” she asked him quietly, quick before her voice could betray her efforts to compose herself.

“Of course,” Harry softly agreed, keeping a careful eye on her as she stepped inside and took off her heels. She had on a nice dress – it was meant to be date night; she shouldn’t be here.

Harry watched her sink into the corner of the couch, taking the warm spot he’d been sitting in. She looked awkward trying to fold herself up into a ball, her long limbs making it impossible for her to be as small as she wanted to be right then.

Moving to sit beside her, he asked the question with the most obvious answer: “Are you okay?”

Taylor nodded too fast, too quickly, and in mere seconds her lip started quivering and her face crumbled as she couldn’t hold off crying any longer.

She let Harry shuffle closer, let him wrap his arms around her and pull her into him. She rested her head on his shoulder, draped her curled up legs over his lap as her own hands clutched onto him. She wanted to be close, she wanted to be comforted, she wanted to be loved.

Harry did nothing but hold her. Trying to get her to talk would’ve been useless – she was crying too much to speak, too upset to be coherent. He hated whoever could do such a thing to her, and there was only person it could possibly be.

It was a while before Taylor could manage to calm herself down. She attempted to wipe her face with the heel of her hand as she eventually lifted her head from him, her eyes red and watery and smudged with her once perfect make-up. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, completely unnecessarily. “Karlie’s out with Josh and I didn’t want to ruin their night. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“’s okay,” he reassured her gently, brushing wet tendrils of hair away from her delicate face. “You can always come to me. You know that.”

Taylor gave a small nod before she leaned her head back against him. “We got in a fight,” she almost whispered, needn’t defining _‘we’._ He knew who she was meant to be with.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry offered, the little shake of her head in reply what he had been anticipating.

“Just… he can be… such an _ass_ ,” she snivelled, burying her face further into the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Ever since…”

Taylor trailed off and Harry could only guess what the end of that thought was. Something about _him,_ he, perhaps conceitedly, feared. Just because he would’ve rather been in Sam’s place, didn’t mean he wanted to come between him and Taylor. All he really wanted was for Taylor to be happy, not for her to be feeling like _this._

Smoothing his hand over her hair, he heard her sigh. “I’m so sorry, Taylor,” he expressed, running his fingers down her back soothingly. He wasn’t used to this sort of thing – with the lads, he was never a shoulder to cry on, and the girls always went to other girls. He wasn’t really sure what to say that would help her. Was there _anything_ that could?

After a little while, Taylor pulled back again, wiping her face once more and breathing in deeply, slow in her exhale. “Maybe I’m just being dramatic,” she supposed, sounding defeated, bitter as she added, “I’m a writer, of course I’m fucking insane.”

Harry wisely didn’t point out the implication that had on him, knowing this wasn’t a time for joking around. Although, he would love to hear her laugh right now. Just see a smile, even. Anything to replace the sadness that looked so out of place on such a sweet face.

She looked at him seriously as she said, “I think he’s going to break up with me.”

He could’ve been relieved to hear that, but looking at the despondency draining her features, it was impossible to see any good in such a thing. Harry was a good man and even better friend, one who wouldn’t even consider putting anyone other than Taylor first right now.

Moving his hand to her jaw, he brushed his thumb over her damp cheek softly. “Whatever it is that’s going on, I’m sure you two can work it out,” he tried to reassure her. “You love each other, you’re not going to give it up over one fight.”

Taylor looked reluctant to agree; he didn’t really blame her. She knew far better than he what was really going on, the inner workings of her relationship largely remaining a mystery to him and everyone else. Harry could only make guesses, but Taylor knew every detail. If anyone could make an educated call on whether or not her long-time boyfriend was about to pull the plug on their relationship, it was rightfully her.

“Has he said anything to you? About me?” she probed, almost sure of the answer before he said it.

“Not really, no,” Harry told her expectedly. “But looking at him, you can tell he cares about you. Give it a bit of time, sort things out once you’ve both cooled down.”

Nodding a little, she nibbled on her bottom lip, her mind speeding through much more than she spoke. “If he talks to you, will you tell me? Please?”

“Of course,” he promised, though he doubted Sam was about to come to _him_ about anything to do with Taylor. “Is there anything else I can do? You can stay here tonight, if you want.”

“I don’t know if I should…”

“It’s up to you,” he spoke softly, letting his hand drop from her face. “You do what you think is best for you.”

He would never know what first came to her mind; he would only see her eyes fall from his.

“I think… if you don’t mind… I’d like to stay with you,” Taylor concluded after a moment or so. “Can I go and get some things first?”

Harry nodded definitely. “Get whatever you like. I’m not going anywhere – not unless you want me to.” He tried a small smile at her and she softened, pulling him into a thankful hug.

“You mean so much to me,” she whispered in his ear, her eyes springing with fresh tears. Forcing herself away, she climbed to her feet, avoiding his gaze as she smoothed her dress back into place. “I’ll be back soon.”

‘Soon’ was a bit longer than Harry was expecting, not that he minded. He switched off the TV after Taylor left, the show he had been half watching earlier having finished, and he turned back to his phone to catch up on the conversation that had continued online without him. His mind wasn’t in it anymore, too absorbed in what had just happened. There were too many answers he didn’t have, to questions he didn’t dare ask. He didn’t want to press too hard – not right now, anyway. Perhaps she would fully open up to him in time.

When Taylor knocked on his door again, she looked much mellower. Her hair dripping from the cleansing shower she had had, she looked at him through the frames of her glasses, her skin wiped free of make-up and only still a bit pink from crying. In her arms were a couple books and a pencil case stacked on top, and it gave Harry a strange sense of being in college with the girl of his dreams.

“Sorry I took so long,” she apologised, hugging her things to her chest as she walked back in. “Can I ask you another favour?”

“Course.”

“Will you please make tea?”

Taylor smiled shyly and Harry swore he would do anything for her.

“I’d love to,” he told her kindly.

While he moved to the kitchen, Taylor settled herself unexpectedly on the floor, sitting cross-legged at the end of the coffee table. She put her things down and flicked through one of the books, laying it flat on the table and keeping the other just to the side. She upended the pencil case and started arranging the contents neatly in front of her, smiling a little as Harry came and set a steaming mug in her reach.

“You don’t mind this, do you?” she asked him, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have told her so when she looked so sweet and innocent right there.

“Are you kidding? Who doesn’t love a good colouring book?” Harry smiled at her, peering at her open book. “What’ve you got there?”

Childishly, Taylor quickly covered her page with her hands. “I’ll show you when I’m done.”

She set to her secretive colouring, and Harry decided to keep the peace for her by occupying himself with a book. Soon getting himself comfortable stretched out on the couch, he only had the chance to find his place from the other day before Taylor suspended him.

_“The Great Gatsby_ ,” she read from the cover, her chin propped up on her hand as she gazed at him softly. “I haven’t read that in years. Are you enjoying it?”

“It’s good, yeah,” he nodded. “Did you watch the movie?”

“Books are always better,” she proclaimed, smiling knowingly. “But I’d love to watch the movie again with you once you’re finished reading.”

Harry watched fondly as she picked up a green pencil and returned to her picture. She seemed to be more at ease, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. At least she had a safe place here, one he was very thankful to provide.

A calm few hours passed with nothing but the sound of pages turning and lead scratching on paper. The both of them were contented with sitting in close proximity doing their own thing, feeling no need to interact any more than the occasional glance. Maybe that’s what true friendship was: feeling comfortable in the silences with someone else, offering solace by simply being there. Being there with warmth to give, instead of being something unkind to run from.

Every now and then, Taylor would scribble something down in the journal she kept beside her. Each time she hooked the elastic strip back over the hard cover, as if she didn’t intend on opening it again, but then something else would come to her and she would open and close it just the same again. Keeping her thoughts locked in was what it was. Protected between the covers of her notebook until she had worked them through and turned them into words she was proud of, ones she would share with the world one day.

Ones about the painful boy who was hurting her heart and the enchanting one who was alleviating it.

Taylor startled him when she finally tapped him on the arm and held up the page she had chosen to colour in. An ornate design of flowers intertwining all over the page, she had pencilled them in a mix of bright pinks and yellows and rich reds and purples. The contrast of light and dark seemed a lot like how she was feeling: a put-together exterior masking the aching underneath.

“Do you like it?”

Harry smiled at her softly. “It’s pretty.”

“I thought this one was the prettiest book they had,” Taylor noted, flicking through and showing him a couple more designs she had completed. “I got it last semester to help unwind.”

“I think it was a nice choice,” he agreed, resisting the urge to reach out and run his fingers through her wavy hair; he liked the way it looked when it was natural and un-styled. The gesture would’ve been sweet, though, as a short silence came between them and Harry found himself needing to ask, “Are you going to be okay?”

The question had Taylor biting her lip and glancing down, a hesitation at its finest. “I just hate fighting with people,” she said quietly. “It scares me. I don’t want to end up alone.”

“You’re never going to be alone, Taylor.”

This time, Harry reached for her shoulder, gently resting his hand there instead of holding it in hers like he should’ve risked. Taylor looked up at him, wetting her lips with a swipe of her tongue.

“I love him,” she said.

“I’m sure things will go back to normal in no time.”

Things would, but for how long?

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Thursday the 15th of September.

Not two weeks on from the fight, everything seemed fine as he had predicted, until he made it back to his flat that day.

Harry had spent the night at a gig for work, an indie band that had entertained a small bar in the city. He had particularly liked their cover of ‘Here Comes the Sun’ by The Beatles. It reminded him of home.

He was humming the tune as he headed up the stairs, his chipper outlook beginning to diminish when he heard arguing coming from Taylor’s place, the thin walls serving no justice when it came to keeping private affairs a true secret. As soon as he was through his door, Harry put in his headphones, not wanting to hear anything else of theirs that wasn’t any of his business.

It had him worried and admittedly kind of curious, though. Taylor hadn’t mentioned any problems since that night she had come to him, so he figured they must’ve reconciled. This didn’t sound like reconciling. This sounded like they were really fucking _pissed._

Harry tried unsuccessfully to distract himself, steering clear of their adjoining wall so eavesdropping wasn’t so tempting. He sat on the lounge and turned up the volume of his music; she would tell him the details if she wanted to, but for now he knew that it wasn’t his place to be snooping.

It wasn’t long before practically everyone on the whole floor heard the climatic end to their dispute: the screamed _“I_ never _want to see you again!”_ and the slam of the door so hard that it surely had things rattling around inside.

Shit. That was… _shit._

Immediately Harry’s mind began to whir with possibilities. What had Sam _done?_ Explicit words like that weren’t to be taken lightly, especially not coming from someone so usually level-headed like Taylor. It suddenly occurred to him that that was it, that he had just overheard a pinnacle moment: Taylor and Sam were over. Done. Finished. Gone.

The thought made his stomach churn. Not even a flash of selfishness crossed his mind, only the dreadful feeling of knowing his friend he held so close to his heart had just had hers broken. He needn’t need the specifics – he _knew_ she had just been shattered. He had seen a glimpse of it that Friday night, and he had just heard it in her voice that rang through the wrongly upbeat sound emitting from his headphones.

A part of him wanted to rush over there and see if she was okay. It was the alarming memory of the moment _his_ last relationship had ended that stopped him. He hadn’t wanted to see anyone then, and while it didn’t occur to him that maybe their circumstances were the same, he was sure that she felt the same as he had.

Harry decided to give her some time. An hour, at least. She needed to process whatever had just happened before she saw anyone, before she could talk about it. He realised he wasn’t her first choice, but he was right there, and he knew, no matter what, he would never leave her side.

The waiting was painful; he didn’t know what to do with himself. He considered texting her, but coming up with a message that didn’t sound utterly stupid proved impossible. The right words were hard to find, and he started to question whether or not trying to see her was a good idea. What if he only managed to make her feel worse?

Shaking his doubts off, Harry knew that as her friend he had to try. He slipped his phone and his keys in his pocket, much earlier than he was planning on, waiting patiently after knocking on her door. It didn’t normally take her long to answer, but it seemed like an eternity this time. As the seconds passing accumulated, Harry began to think she wasn’t going to; on the other side of the door, Taylor had tiptoed over to look through the peep hole to see who was there, was frantically trying to wipe her face dry. Her efforts were near useless: her glassy eyes were red, as were her cheeks, and Harry felt his own heart breaking just looking at her when she finally opened up.

“Now’s not a good time,” she choked out.

“Can I hug you?” he asked softly.

Taylor’s lip quivered and she nodded quickly, immediately falling into his arms as he stepped inside. Harry hugged her tighter than ever, needing her to know that he wasn’t going anywhere, that she wasn’t alone. No matter what had happened, she was never going to be alone.

They just stood there like that for a while, Taylor clutching onto him as she cried heavily into his shirt. Harry never wanted to let go; he was her anchor, keeping her from floating away in her sea of despair. With him here, she didn’t feel quite so lost within herself.

Devastation was plain to see on her face as she lifted her head, her blue eyes like pools cascading with sorrow. It made her hard to look at, though at the same time Harry couldn’t seem to look away. She looked defenceless, defeated, and it twisted his insides, like he was staring into the eyes of something deeply disturbing. All he wanted to do was help.

It took her a great amount of effort to find words, and when she did, they came out in an overwhelmed sob.

“There’s another girl.”

A stitch inside of Harry snapped open as the inference sunk in. He struggled with his next breath, quickly moving his hand to the back of her head and resting it back against him, squeezing his eyes shut as the tears fell fast from hers.

“He– he just– got a text, and h-he was in the bathroom, so I– I looked, and– and–” Taylor struggled to explain, her voice muffled and desperate. “It was another girl. He saw another girl.”

“I’m so sorry, Taylor,” Harry murmured, stroking her hair soothingly. He felt his own throat constricting with tears and he tried urgently to swallow them down.

“All I did was love him,” she cried, her hands balling into fists as she gripped the fabric of his shirt. “I loved him and he– he just–”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Nothing,” he instantly reassured her. “You did nothing wrong, Tay, it’s not your fault.”

He knew right now she wouldn’t believe him, but he could only hope that his words would sink in as truth later on.

Suddenly stepping out of his embrace, Taylor began to pace restlessly, wiping her face and fidgeting with her hands. “It’s just– I feel so _stupid._ I _trusted_ him, I never thought he would do something like this to me,” she rambled unsteadily. “We talked about having a _future_ together. I thought– I thought that– god, I thought he was someone I could spend my life with and I thought he thought that about _me._ I thought he wanted _me._ But he was off fucking some other girl and he yelled at me like _I_ was the one who did something wrong.”

She paused to rub her eyes with the heels of her hands and Harry stood watching, at a loss for words.

“What does she have that I don’t? I know I’m not perfect, but I _loved_ him. I gave him everything and it still wasn’t enough. I’m so _tired_ of never being enough for anyone; all my friends are going to get married and live happily ever after and I’m still going to be sitting here surrounded by fifty cats trying to figure out what it is about me that can’t make a man stay.”

Harry wanted to tell her. He was _this close_ to bursting out with the confession that he had adored her from the minute he saw her, that he wanted nothing more than to be with her and make her happy, that he would never do the awful thing Sam had done, that if it were solely up to him he would never leave her. But the smart part of him knew that it wasn’t the right time, that it would only confuse her emotions some more, so he bit his tongue and kept those words from falling out.

“You’re going to find someone who’ll love you right, Taylor,” he instead told her, and she shook her head hastily.

“You don’t know that.” Taylor looked at him hopelessly. “You don’t _know_ that!”

Her breath quickened and she appeared scared, of her thoughts, her words, he didn’t know. Harry hurried the few steps over to her, watching her small frame shake in distress as fresh tears flowed down her face, and he reached for her hand, holding it over his heart as his other arm wrapped back around her shoulders and pulled her in close. With the quiet soothing sounds he made, Taylor rested her head against him and focused on the steady beat of his heart under her hand, trying her best to align her breathing to his calmer rhythm. It took her a moment, but she began to relax in his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, nearly inaudible.

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Harry assured her softly. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Nobody does.”

Turning his head towards hers, he inhaled the scent of her hair. Her new shampoo smelled like strawberries, the pleasant aroma lingering in her tresses from her last wash. It was sweet, just like her.

“Come sit down, love,” Harry encouraged, and with her small nod he guided her over to the couch where they kept close to each other, Taylor tucked up safely under his arm. He grabbed some tissues off the table for her that she accepted gratefully, blowing her nose unceremoniously and giving her a face a proper wipe.

Taylor nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes cast down as she carelessly tossed her used tissues onto the table, the scrunched-up balls almost not making it there. “I thought he was a better man,” she sighed.

They didn’t talk much for the rest of the night. Taylor didn’t have the energy for much more than sitting in silence, the comfort Harry offered by simply being there what she needed more than condolences. She cried and he would offer her fresh tissues, until she eventually cried herself out and she drifted off into a relieving sleep with her head resting on his shoulder.

Very carefully, Harry moved her onto her back, figuring he would have more luck with not disturbing her by getting her comfortable here rather than trying to carry her to her bed. Taylor stirred as he laid squished up on his side beside her, a small mumbling sound leaving her as he settled. Whether she awoke briefly or she was just unconsciously gravitating towards him, out of habit for the man she had just lost, she nestled herself up against him in the small space they had. Harry wrapped his arms around her, safely, appropriately, the thought of walking out and letting her wake up alone not having crossed his mind once.

Harry longed not to know how she was feeling right now. He longed not to understand her feeling of betrayal and rejection. For a while, he just laid watching her sleep in his arms, feeling her steady, shallow breath with his hand on her back. He could’ve told her. He could’ve explained that the whole thing was bullshit but she would survive, that he had moved onto better things and she would too. The end could be a new beginning.

He would tell her. Not today, but he would. He had to.

 

*** * * * ***

‘Marimba’ woke the two of them in not nearly enough hours, the sound emanating from Harry’s back pocket. (There was a joke there somewhere, he was sure, but it was too early to try to be funny)

His phone was dropped lazily onto the floor, and in a perfect world he would be kissing the girl in his arms good morning and hopefully, maybe, getting something more. Instead, she was twisting her head around trying to place herself, screwing her face up in pain and burying it back in his shirt. Neither of them wanted to move, only not for the happy-go-lucky reason he had always pictured this moment to be.

“My contacts are burning holes in my head,” Taylor complained flatly, her morning voice thicker than usual.

“There anything I can do?” Harry asked, raspy.

“Cut my eyes out.”

“Bit early for mutilation.”

“You wouldn’t survive in jail, anyway.”

Taylor pulled back a little then, opening her stinging eyes to look at him. He could feel her gaze on him and he reluctantly opened his own tired peepers, the messy sight of her one he really was not used to. Red veins overtaking the white in her eyes and her skin especially pale, she looked… well, _sad._

“Thanks for staying,” she quietly said. “You didn’t have to.”

“I was never just going to leave you like that,” he promised her with an earnest stare. “I can take the day off if you need me.”

Her hand slid up his torso, sending a trail of heat in its wake as she moved to brush his hair away from his face. “I’ll be okay,” she told him, though he struggled to believe it. “You’ve got things to do, so. You should go.”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything? Anything at all.”

“I will.”

When Harry soon left to get ready for his day, he wasn’t convinced that she would be fine at all.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

For the next week, Harry didn’t hear a thing from Taylor. She didn’t answer his texts, she didn’t come over, she didn’t reach out to him at all. She seemed to have skipped class, called in sick for work, stayed indoors where no one could see her hurting. Nobody had been able to get in touch with her – he kept up with Karlie, who hadn’t had any luck either and was growing increasingly worried by the day. It wasn’t like Taylor to cut herself off from everyone like this.

At least Harry knew she was still there. Thanks to the shitty walls in their building, he had heard signs of life next door. Mostly, it was the sound of her speakers turned up too loud in her bedroom that he could hear. She seemed intent on listening to every sad song she had ever heard in her entire life on a repeating cycle, wallowing in her heartache in the most obvious way possible. If he had to listen to the likes of ‘I Hate Myself for Losing You’ and ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ any more, he might just go nuts himself.

Truthfully, the more Harry thought about it, the guiltier he started to feel. Had he not been in the picture, Taylor probably wouldn’t be feeling like this right now. Without him, Sam wouldn’t have had anyone to feel threatened by and he would’ve kept it in his pants around every other girl and they would’ve gotten married and moved into a house he designed especially for them and had a bunch of kids and lived happily ever after just like she always wanted.

Okay, he didn’t _know_ that, but he was sure that he hadn’t been much of a help. Even though he had never tried anything with Taylor, he had certainly been around her a lot. He could see why Sam might’ve been suspicious, but surely he must’ve trusted Taylor to remain loyal. Surely he knew her well enough to know that the thought of going behind his back would never once cross her mind. Surely.

It was Karlie who managed to penetrate Taylor’s defensive barrier. She staged a best friend intervention one afternoon, and from Harry’s side of the wall it sounded like it involved an awful lot more crying, which he supposed was better than her sitting alone with no one there for her to talk to and be comforted by.

The bright idea to dress her up and get her out of the apartment on Saturday night hadn’t turned out quite as well as they had been hoping. Karlie had kept things small by only asking Josh and Harry along, knowing that Taylor liked them plenty well and they would be efficient back up if needed, and it turned out they _were_ very much needed.

They were all to blame for not keeping a close enough eye on what she was drinking. Taylor had spent the entire night at the bar looking miserable with a glass in her hand that she always made sure had something in it, until it all went to her head and something small set her off and she was in tears again. The looks they received as they dragged her outside were obvious: no one wanted to be them right then.

Harry had been more than an emotional support: upon insistence that she wanted to go home, they had encountered the dilemma of Taylor being too out of it to manage all of the stairs up to their floor, and he had been the one to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way after she had tripped and burst into tears again. She was a total mess, and after Karlie had managed to get her safely to bed to sleep it off, the three of them wondered what the hell they were going to do with her. Heartbroken Taylor wasn’t going to be an easy fix, that was for sure.

While Karlie and Josh took the folded-out couch, Harry stayed over in Taylor’s room, there in case she needed anything in the night. He slept fine, though he woke briefly in the morning, which when he fluttered his eyes open the slightest to find he was in an empty bed, he was glad to have stirred.

Quickly kicking the blankets off, Harry staggered to the bathroom, swinging the door almost shut behind him as he found Taylor hunched up on the floor in front of the toilet. She only managed a short glance at him before her stomach lurched and she was throwing up again, her body rejecting last night’s choices. He immediately dropped himself down beside her and held her hair back for her, ignoring the sticky ends of some strands.

“It’s okay,” he spoke quietly. “Let it out, love. You’re okay.”

Soon she sat back, her eyes closing as she breathed slowly. “You can go back to sleep,” she allowed him, her voice strained. “I’m okay.”

Before he had the chance to argue, Taylor was leaning forward again and contradicting her words with another splash of bile. Harry offered soothing sounds and tried to avoid breathing through his nose, reaching forward to give the toilet a flush once she was momentarily finished.

“’m gonna get you some water, alright?” he told her, watching her tiny nod. “I’ll be right back.”

He tried to be quiet as he made a move for the kitchen, not wanting to disturb Karlie and Josh who were still sleeping peacefully together. He filled the first glass he could find with cold water from the fridge and hurried back on tentative tiptoes, relieved to see Taylor still sitting upright when he returned.

“How long have you been in here?” he asked after handing over the glass, sitting cross-legged beside her as she took a careful sip.

“I don’t know, a while,” she mumbled uneasily, avoiding looking his way. “I feel like shit.”

“I know, love. ‘m gonna stay with you until you feel a bit better, if that’s okay with you?”

Taylor nodded again, honestly glad that somebody seemed to give a damn about her. She glanced up curiously as he rose to his feet again, hearing the sink run behind her and only looking at him properly when he sat back down and tilted her chin towards him. Harry could see Taylor shrinking into herself in embarrassment as he used a face cloth to try to get the sick out of her hair, though she remained quiet as she let him take care of her. He finished tying her hair back and fastening the short bits at the front that didn’t reach the elastic with some bobby pins he found on the counter just in time for her next lot of vomit, shaking her small figure.

After rinsing the cloth in the sink, Harry rested the cold fabric on her forehead, offering relief to her heated skin as he dabbed it over her cheeks and the back of her neck. Taylor sighed and leaned into him, sipping at her glass of water as his concern paid her careful attention.

They sat there on the tiles for quite some time. It wasn’t a nice job, having to mind someone who couldn’t seem to stop trying to rid themselves of everything they had ever consumed, but Harry had no intention of leaving her side. He sat with her through every wave of nausea, rubbing her back and making sure she always had water to drink, all the way until she had nothing left to give and nothing came of her horrid heaves. For someone with such a small body, she sure lasted a while.

Once she gave him an okay that he actually believed, Harry helped Taylor to her feet, held her upright on her weak limbs with his steady arm around her waist to support her. He led her back to bed and laid with her until she fell back to sleep, hoping that when she woke she wouldn’t feel quite so dreadful.

Carefully climbing back out of bed, Harry wandered back into the main room to find the others awake, and it was then that he thought perhaps it was a tad bit inappropriate that he’d been only in his underwear this whole time.

“Morning,” he smiled regardless. “Either of you need the bathroom? I’d recommend using mine.”

“Is she doing okay?” Karlie inquired, sitting up and untangling herself from the blankets and Josh’s embrace.

“She’s asleep now, so she should be fine. Seems to have gotten last night out of her system.”

“We heard,” Josh said, looking a little pale himself.

He stayed behind as Harry and Karlie slipped next door. Letting her go first, Harry pulled on a pair of sweats from his drawer out of consideration rather than personal choice. Karlie emerged shortly after, and after he had his turn in the bathroom he found her taking a peek at the various items atop his dresser, photographs and jewellery and other odds and ends. It didn’t surprise him, not since she hadn’t been in here before. There was still plenty more for her to learn about him.

“Are these your college friends?” Karlie asked him, pointing a slender finger at one of the photo frames propped up on the end. She was right: it was a picture of him and the lads, one of the last taken of the six of them before graduation. In a tangled mess on frosty grass, most of them weren’t even looking at the camera – although, organising a bunch of boisterous boys was never easy, as anyone who had tried to take a picture of them over the last few years had found out. He liked it, though. It captured their spirit nicely.

“Yeah,” Harry answered, stepping over to join her and pointing out another. “This one’s of my mum and sister. Was at a kind of going away dinner.”

“Good genes run in the family, I see,” Karlie smiled at him warmly. “It must be hard being so far away from them. At least I’m still in the same country as mine.”

“Yeah, I mean, we talk all the time, so it’s not so bad,” he shrugged a little. “It’s easier now that I’ve like, got some friends here.”

“I know what you mean. Meeting those two,” she nodded her head towards the wall, “made leaving feel so much more worthwhile.”

Karlie picked up a Polaroid he had sitting there to take a closer look, and Harry was glad for the darkness in his room to mask the heat rising in his cheeks. It was one of him and Taylor – of course it was – that she had snapped one afternoon a few weeks back, Taylor captured in laughter and a cheeky grin frozen on his face after the awful joke he had just cracked just to make them look natural. It was one of many, and he loved it.

“She has such a beautiful heart,” Karlie thought aloud. “I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt her.”

Harry nodded, feeling the exact same way. “Have you spoken to him?”

“I’ve got some things I’d _love_ to say to him,” she said resentfully, “but nothing will change what he did. We’re just left having to try to help pick up the pieces as best we can.”

“Perhaps next time we try to do something for her we shouldn’t let her get hammered,” Harry suggested light-heartedly, small smiles tugging at both of their faces.

“I’ll take the blame for this one,” Karlie conceded with a small laugh. “You can come up with the next bright idea, but for now we should probably get back.”

So back next door they went, Harry giving permission for either of them to let themselves into his flat if need be. He went back to Taylor’s bedroom, slipping in beside her and watching over her for a little while. Lying on her back, she looked peaceful, and he could’ve very well kissed her on the cheek and cuddled up to her. If only.

He must’ve drifted back off, since the next time he opened his eyes the space beside him was unoccupied again. This time though, it wasn’t for an unfortunate reason.

The door to her room had been shut out of courtesy, softening the sounds of voices on the other side. Harry rubbed his eyes with loose fists, wondering how much he had managed to miss. The time on his phone read past midday, and when he climbed back out of bed, he paused for a moment at the door. He heard something along the lines of “Harry will stay”, and he considered for a brief moment listening in on what they had to say without him there.

Stupid, though. He walked through and the three of them looked his way, greeting him with smiles from each of their spots on and around the couch. Naturally his gaze settled on Taylor, who was curled up in a change of clothes and framed by damp wavy hair from a shower he hadn’t heard. She looked okay. Not fantastic, but okay, and that was enough.

“Hey,” she welcomed him gently. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thank you,” he answered with typical politeness. “Didn’t expect you to be up first.”

Taylor watched him as he stepped over to sit beside her, her eyes soft. “Well it’s hardly unusual, is it?” she teased lightly, from all the weekends they had stayed together and he had slept in longer than her. She would have breakfast ready for when he woke, and every time he felt like he meant something special to her.

Harry smiled at her, resting his hand on her knee comfortably. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m okay,” she said, which was as good an answer as he was going to get. “You guys don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“Tay,” Karlie sighed, looking up from the bed they’d made on the floor.

“I told you, you really don’t have to stick around here,” she continued. “Last night was a mistake, but I’m fine. It’s not the end of the world just ‘cause someone doesn’t love me anymore.”

Her tone might’ve been casual but the look on Taylor’s face proved otherwise. They could all see it, the flicker of undeniable hurt as the words left her mouth. She wasn’t fooling anyone, and he was sure she knew it, too.

Karlie and Josh hung around for a couple more hours despite Taylor’s insistence, leaving with the confidence that she was in safe hands with Harry staying with her. After seeing them off, Taylor wandered away over to the chair in the corner by the bookshelf, scooping up Meredith who so often called that space her own. She sat and let the cat get comfortable again on her lap, stroking soft fur and keeping quiet as they had all done while they had watched television and had something to eat. She seemed to look younger, sitting there in her oversized Columbia sweatshirt and an expression of poorly concealed disappointment. Disappointment in everything, most heart-wrenchingly in herself.

Minutes passed, and when she did speak up, her voice was small.

“I’m really sorry,” Taylor apologised, her eyes cast down. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with me like that.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her.

“No, it’s not,” she opposed, looking up at him then. “I’ve ignored you for the past week and then you had to try to handle me like _that._ It wasn’t fair on you and I’m sorry.”

Harry shrugged, simply saying, “That’s what friends are for.”

It was true: if your friends couldn’t set everything aside to take care of you, who would?

Taylor glanced back down and he watched her chew on her bottom lip, unable to guess just what she was thinking. Her quiet revelation of “He hasn’t even tried to call” certainly hadn’t crossed his mind.

“For over a year, we spoke every day, and now it’s just… silence. Like it didn’t even matter.” She reconsidered. “Like _I_ didn’t matter.”

Without hesitation, Harry got up from the couch and walked over, crouching down in front of her and carefully tilting her chin up so she was looking at him. Her eyes were already shiny with tears.

“I think he knows there’s nothing he could say to take back what he did,” he suspected. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t important to him.”

“Not important enough,” she whispered, a droplet running down her cheek. As soon as Harry wiped it away with his thumb, her eyes closed and more tears followed suit. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” he said with all certainty.

“Then why does everyone leave me?”

Harry’s heart was breaking all over again seeing her like this, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to be of some help. She didn’t deserve to be shattered. She deserved love and all things beautiful, and he was determined to one day show that to her.

“Taylor, look at me,” he coaxed, wiping both of her cheeks and tucking her hair behind her ears, only continuing when she opened her eyes again. “I don’t know anybody who’s as genuinely good as you are. You _care_ about people. You’re thoughtful and compassionate and smart and _anyone_ would be lucky to meet you, even just once. You’re going to find someone who’ll love you with all of their heart and it’ll be worth the wait. It might not seem like it right now, but it’ll happen. You’ll find someone who won’t hurt you like this, I promise.”

_His_ eyes were watery now, and Taylor leaned forward to hug him as best as she could. “Thank you,” she sighed, surprising him with a soft kiss to his cheek, her wet skin brushing against his. Harry held onto her for a moment, tangling his fingers in her hair and praying that she actually believed what he said, even if it only was just a little.

“I’ve got something for you,” he told her once she seemed to have stopped crying. She had a confused little frown on her face when she pulled away from him, watching him as he said, “I’ll be right back,” and disappeared out the door.

A mere minute later, Harry returned with a CD in his hand. After spending days listening to all her sorrowful songs through the wall, he had been inspired to come up with something a little more cheerful for her. He had compiled a playlist of empowering tracks that would hopefully give a boost to her confidence and had burned it to a blank disc, waiting for her to open up to him again so he could give it to her.

“For when you’re ready,” Harry said, handing the clear case over to her.

Taylor read the title, _‘No more sad songs’_ , printed in all caps on the front of the CD in black marker. A smile grew on her lips as she slowly looked back up at him, and suddenly there was a glint in her eyes. It looked an awful lot like hope.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Things were quieter than usual, but at least Taylor had put an end to shutting everyone out completely. She seemed to prefer spending her time by herself, mainly talking in text. While he did miss seeing her after work every couple of days, Harry understood that she needed her space. He was always just next door if he was wanted.

He had just gotten home from work on Thursday when he heard a commotion coming from her bathroom. He walked into his own, listening in with a frown creasing his brow. Running water, the impatient sound of her voice, and was that… a cat?

Knocking on the wall, Harry called out to her. “Are you alright in there?”

“Yeah, just– a little accident,” Taylor yelled back. Seconds later, there came a crashing sound and a loud _“Shit!”_ as the water was suddenly switched off.

“Do you want a hand?” he offered, and as soon as he heard her accepting reply he was heading out to grab his keys again.

The first thing that struck Harry when Taylor let him into her apartment wasn’t the splash of water that had rendered her t-shirt see-through in just the right spot for him to be able to see the polka dot bra she had on underneath – though that was a pretty sweet mishap, he had to say. It was her hair. She had changed her hair.

“I’ve managed to piss off _both_ of my cats in the last two days,” Taylor began ranting, as if there was nothing different about her taking him by surprise. “Yesterday, I stepped on Meredith’s tail by accident and she’s _still_ mad at me about it, and today I just knocked the milk over and it spilled off the bench right onto Olivia. What are the odds of that happening? Why did she have to be _right there, right then?”_

Unfortunate, yes, but Harry couldn’t help from smiling. “So, were you trying to… _bathe_ her?”

“I don’t want the milk to dry on her fur, that’s disgusting!” Taylor said with a flap of her hands, stalking around the room in search of the cat that had gotten away. “Help me find her, she’ll probably just run from me again.”

She was right: once she quickly found Olivia hiding under the couch, the white ball darted off in a flash for her bedroom. Harry went after her, saw a peek of her tail sticking out from under the bed. Getting down on the floor, he tried to coax her out, and despite her usual penchant for him she refused to budge. He had to grab her out with his hands in a swift attempt, the poor thing soaked with more water than milk. She was shaking as he hugged her to his chest and he wasn’t quite sure whether it was out of fear or from being cold.

“What’s she been doing to you, eh?” Harry spoke lowly to the cat, kissing the top of its head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Taylor insisted on finishing up washing her, saving Harry from being as hated as she currently was. He watched on as she attempted to continue bathing Olivia in the bathroom sink, struggling to keep her there until she was convinced she was clean. It wasn’t an easy task, and Harry wondered whether it was even really necessary when Olivia could’ve happily licked most of it off herself, but Taylor seemed intent on righting her wrong her way.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she cooed down at the poor soaked cat once she was finally finished. She passed her over to Harry, who was readily equipped with a towel, and she pouted her bottom lip. “I’m a bad mom, I know, baby. It won’t happen again.”

Olivia looked up at her with a displeased expression, though to be fair, she never looked all that thrilled to begin with.

“I think she’ll forgive you,” Harry assured her, his fond gaze still on Taylor. “Give her some treats and she’ll warm back up to you.”

“Ooh, good idea,” Taylor smiled at him, raising her finger up as she got one herself. Reaching for the cabinet, she rummaged around to pull out a hairdryer. “This should help.”

Olivia received the deluxe treatment, getting a blow dry for her fur like this was some kind of pet salon. Maybe she wasn’t such an unlucky cat after all, though the scratches on Taylor’s arms didn’t exactly agree. She hurried off as soon as Harry put her down, too.

“Thanks for helping,” Taylor smiled at him as she started neatening the few things that had been knocked over and off the counter in the bathing wrestle. “There are perks to having thin walls after all.”

Harry chuckled at that, hooking the towel back over the rack and sliding his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “You’re looking good, by the way,” he complimented finally. “Your hair, I mean. It looks really nice.”

While he was cringing a little at himself, Taylor seemed flattered by his approval, if not a bit unconvinced as she promptly looked in the mirror and touched her fresh locks. “You think so? I felt like doing something a bit different.”

The timing of it wasn’t surprising: she wasn’t the first girl to take scissors and dye to her hair in the aftermath of a break up and she surely wasn’t going to be the last. Fortunately for her, her impulsiveness hadn’t landed her with a shitty haircut. With a bit off the ends and her fringe brushed to sit all away across her forehead, the most noticeable difference was the peroxide that had brightened her golden locks. Taylor had turned into a bleach blonde and she kind of actually rocked it.

“I really like it,” Harry nodded, smiling at her compellingly.

“My hairdresser suggested it,” she explained. “Karlie said she liked it, too.”

“I’ve got a leather jacket that I think would look really nice with it,” he thought, holding back a laugh as she looked at him with an astounded expression. “You can borrow it sometime, if you’d like.”

“I can’t say I was expecting to get that reaction,” Taylor smiled with surprise. “Thank you, though.”

“We should go out again sometime, if you’re feeling up for it. We won’t let you near the hard liquor this time, though.”

Taylor’s smile turned guilty and she shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, though the upwards curve of her lips was quite the improvement from when the idea had been suggested to her the previous week.

“We can do something more fun,” Harry pressed to convince her. “We could go see a film, or… Do you like bowling? Paintball? Is there a paintball place around here?”

“I would guess so,” she answered, looking at him with amusement.

“Is it too soon to suggest a ruthless paint attack on he who shall not be named?”

As she slowly licked her lips, he figured the answer to that was a _yes,_ but she looked more vindictive than anything else when she went to speak. “I’m sure shooting him in a safe environment would be quite therapeutic.”

“Shoot him in the dick,” he muttered a dare, grinning as she stifled a laugh.

“It’s a nice thought, but I’d rather not have to see his face again anytime soon.”

“You’re not the only one.”

Considering how many people adored Taylor, Harry really did not want to be Sam right now. He doubted there were many on his side, and things would certainly be awkward if their group get-togethers continued on like usual. This one mistake would change the lot of them, whether they liked it or not.

“How about we go back to that karaoke bar?” Harry suggested favourably. “You can go sing your heart out.”

“Only if you do, too,” Taylor conditioned, and he couldn’t have agreed more easily.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

So Saturday was their following attempt to get Taylor out and in better spirits, and when Harry knocked on her door that night once he had gotten himself ready, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening or the _“Wow”_ from dropping out of his mouth as he discovered she had especially embraced the idea of dressing herself up for a good time.

“Do I look okay?” Taylor checked with him, which had to be the dumbest question he had ever heard.

Standing before him, Taylor looked… _Christ._ Her lacy crop top showed off an ample amount of skin, sat low and tight enough to get a good peek of cleavage that Harry knew he would spend the night trying desperately not to stare at. Her mile-long legs looked unbelievable in her super skinny jeans, the high cut clinging around her tiny waist. The heels on her boots gave her even greater supermodel height, and the too big leather jacket – _his_ leather jacket – gave a bulkier edge to her look. The all black ensemble had a rock chic aesthetic that on her could break hearts.

Harry struggled to find the right way to filter his wild thoughts, and he knew the longer he took to answer the more she would begin to doubt herself. Although, the smirk he couldn’t wipe off his face had to tell her that what he was thinking definitely wasn’t _‘how do I tell you that you look like shit’_.

“You look…” Harry licked his lips as he tilted his head back with an awful smile, looking up at the ceiling to avoid her eyes as he confessed, “fucking sexy.”

Taylor was blushing when he dared to look back at her, her red lips in a thrilled smile. “Just let me get my purse.”

In the thirty seconds or so it took for her to grab her bag and say a quick goodbye to her cats, Harry frantically tried to tell himself to keep in check – now was really not the time to be hitting on her, no matter how drop dead gorgeous and single at long last she was.

It was no easy task, as he quickly learned as they got a cab to the bar and they sat together in the back seat. He wondered why he hadn’t thought to get some particular emotions out of his system earlier, since he spent the whole time in the back of the car failing to get the thought of touching Taylor out of his head, and considering how tight _his_ jeans were too, he wasn’t keen on having any consequential… _developments._

Karlie and Emilia were already there when they arrived, saving a table with plenty of empty chairs. There were hugs all round, and Harry and Taylor went to buy drinks before settling down with them.

The intention for the night was for fun, to put it simply. They all just wanted to have a good time, and they especially wanted Taylor to. This was meant to be _her_ thing, _her_ night, _her_ time to be surrounded by people who loved her and reminded her that she was cared about. This _wasn’t_ meant to be screwed up.

When they thought their invited collective of six had all arrived after a little while, they acquired a couple of stranglers. Karlie noticed them coming in first, her face suddenly dropping dead serious mid-conversation. She nudged Emilia on her left, though she wasn’t subtle enough for Taylor not to notice. Taylor turned her head to glance behind her, and in those mere few seconds it took to see what had caught their attention, her mood visibly deflated.

“Who invited him?” she questioned, her voice unnervingly calm as she looked back at the group.

“Nobody,” Karlie instantly answered.

Taylor took in a deep breath, lasted only a couple of seconds before she hooked her bag over her shoulder and pushed her chair back, leaving without another word. Karlie quickly went after her, and the rest left at the table all leaned in together with lowered voices.

“Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” Emilia cursed, eyeing the two men who had detoured first for the bar. “Fucking Levi, I never would’ve told him we were coming if he was going to bring _him_ along.”

“Is he out of his fucking mind?” Harry hissed. “She doesn’t want to see him; if he came here just to stir shit, he can piss off.”

“Ooh, you’re cute when you’re mad,” Emilia couldn’t resist teasing, flashing him a quick smirk before regaining her displeased stance. “Do we kick him out or what?”

“How would we do that?” Maddy naively asked.

“Easy: tell him to fuck off,” Emilia simply stated, her eyes darting up to check on Karlie and Taylor talking in hushed argument across the room. “If Tay goes, we all go. We can find somewhere else without that asshole around.”

“Why come when he knows nobody wants him here?” Harry tried to figure out.

“Because he’s a fucking idiot,” Emilia was quick to state the obvious. “He’s been trying to get intel on her ever since they broke up. Trying to see if she’ll take him back, the dumb fuck. She would have to be delusional to ever do that; it’s like he doesn’t know her at all.”

“Oh my god, what is she _doing?”_ gaped Maddy.

They all watched in awe as Taylor crossed over to the bar on her own, right up to Sam who had come here with senseless audacity. Maybe they wouldn’t have to worry about telling him to leave – she could brazenly be doing that herself right now.

From their distance, they couldn’t tell what exactly was going down, but neither of them looked particularly happy about it. Karlie returned to the table and Levi made his way over as soon as the exes started talking. While they all admittedly wanted to eavesdrop, it wasn’t a conversation they wanted to be _right there_ for either.

It didn’t last long, Taylor soon pulling away when Sam tried to touch her arm. She walked back ahead of him, taking back her seat safely wedged between Harry’s and Teo’s. Teo, while he had been quiet through all this, offered a consoling hold of her hand under the table, staying that way for long after Sam pulled up a chair and everyone got talking again.

Nobody was really expecting things to be normal from then on, and for the most part Sam and Levi were rightfully ignored. Whatever agenda Sam came here with, he mainly kept quiet, his long glances at Taylor not even a little subtle but at least the only kind of communication he tried with her. She did an impressive job of pretending that he wasn’t even there, slipping into the conversation as she ordinarily would, and with one drink into her she volunteered to be the first of them to get up on stage again.

Stepping up to the mic sans jacket, Taylor was catching eyes before she had even opened her mouth. Harry’s stare followed her in admiration that would only grow as she did begin to speak.

“My name’s Taylor,” she introduced herself courteously. Someone at another table wolf whistled at her and she giggled in surprise. “This song’s for a boy. He knows exactly who he is.”

While the rest of the people around were likely expecting a love song, their table predicted something on the sadder side. They all should’ve paid more attention to the slyness in her smile.

The song started and her voice was low.

_“I want you to know, that I’m happy for you. I wish nothing but the best for you both.”_

“Holy shit,” Harry marvelled aloud, his wide-eyed grin not alone on the faces around him as she began to sing the biggest fuck you to the boy who had done her wrong, courtesy of Alanis Morissette.

It was another one of those moments that had the whole room hooked. Taylor’s talented voice and the emotion she could so easily and clearly put into it made it so much more than someone getting up on stage for a laugh – she had something to say and someone to say it to, and in that instant, she had everyone in the bar on her side. Everyone excluding Sam, who was wildly uncomfortable as he was forced to sit there and listen to her sing her heart out to him. Quite the deserving punishment for showing up unannounced, Harry reckoned.

It was also, honestly, really fucking sexy to watch. Harry wasn’t the only drooling male in the room, not when she looked so overwhelmingly gorgeous and had the confidence of a heartbroken woman who wasn’t afraid to show her strength. Taylor was on fire, and Harry struggled to think of anything hotter than hearing her sing the line, _“Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?”_

Emilia squealed when she got to that part, bouncing in her chair excitedly. “She’s so fucking hot; I wanna kiss her,” was her lively proclamation, and she looked at Harry when he laughed beside her, his agreement apparently written into his grin as she snorted and punched him in the arm.

Harry was crazy about her. Seeing her hold a room like that was incredible, and suddenly he realised why she was always trying to get him to sing outside of the privacy of his flat. And he really, really hoped that every time she scratched her nails down someone else’s (hopefully _his_ ) back, Sam would feel it. He deserved it.

Taylor finished with a well-earnt applause, plus a loud whistle thanks to Harry. She blew a cheeky kiss to the crowd before heading off stage, strutting back over to the table with her head held high. She was greeted with grins and she gave a playful twirl, taking Emilia’s extended hand and leaning in close to her chair, giggling gleefully as the girl smacked a kiss on her cheek.

“That was so much fun,” Taylor told them ecstatically, sliding round into her seat and not looking in the least bit remorseful for the slice of revenge she had just dished up to Sam. She had every right to do that, though he looked awfully humiliated and like he was trying very hard not to snap at her.

It probably didn’t help that Harry slid his arm around her waist and she twisted to hug him as best as she could. “I’m so proud of you,” he spoke low in her ear, and when she pulled back grinning at him he could’ve very easily kissed her right there.

There was an intense moment of staring when Taylor and Sam locked eyes, sharing words they needn’t speak, especially not in front of everybody. It was sad, really; the two of them used to be so close, and now it was like there was a wall between them, one that would take only dedicated climbers to scale over. It didn’t look like either of them had the strength for that, not right now, at least. Maybe they would make amends someday, but until then they had little to say to each other. It was probably for the best.

To his credit, Sam didn’t immediately get the hell out of there after that performance. He quietly sat through Harry’s turn on stage with an impressive rendition of ‘Animal’ by Neon Trees, even despite his purposely cheeky point at Taylor as he started singing _“I kinda wanna be more than friends”_ and all the girls at their table dancing in their seats. Even when Taylor went to order herself another drink and had come back blushing thanks to a generous young man who had kindly bought it for her, as well as giving her his number scrawled on a napkin, he did nothing other than look rejected, as though it had become obvious to him that he wasn’t going to get whatever he had come here for.

Nobody was all that disappointed to see Sam and Levi eventually head off back the way they’d came. Taylor smiled at Sam before he left, one of sad softness that would resonate with him long after he departed.

The original six hung around for a while longer, those who wanted to taking their turn at singing for the crowd. They talked and listened to the other punters and it was comfortable, just as it should’ve been all along.

Teo was picked up a little earlier by a friend, and the rest of them ended up hanging around outside while they waited for their own rides. Emilia had plenty of energy and was messing around with Taylor, the two of them playing under the light of a street lamp and getting stares from the odd passer-by’s. With a dramatic new photo of her leaning against the lamp mixing up her usually bright, cat-filled Instagram page, Taylor also made it onto Emilia’s heavily used Snapchat story, a short video of her pretending to pole dance making it to the phones of people she had never even met. (And, unfortunately, her brother, but she wasn’t thinking of that right now)

She looked happy, hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol to have messed with her head, and that was all they had been hoping for tonight.

Josh arrived before Maddy and Emilia’s ride did, and the three of them taking his car reluctantly left the girls to wait by themselves upon their insistence that they’d be fine.

“See ya, sexy,” Emilia yelled after them, bursting into laughter when Harry looked over his shoulder and replied, “See you later,” with a mischievous grin, knowing the goodbye wasn’t meant for him.

Taylor was giggling too, turning around and trusting Harry beside her not to lead her into trouble as she started walking backwards. “Text me, babe!” she called back.

“Thanks so much for this, you guys,” Taylor smiled when she turned back around, linking her arm with Harry’s. “I had a lot of fun.”

Karlie and Josh were walking ahead of them hand in hand, leading the way to where Josh had parked his car just a bit down the road. “I’m sorry it didn’t go exactly to plan,” Karlie apologised over her shoulder, but Taylor just waved her off.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have had my moment otherwise.”

“What happened?” Josh asked them, the girls beginning to fill him in on what he’d missed from staying at home with a headache that only would’ve grown at the bar.

Harry was mostly quiet on the way home, responding to the few messages he had on his phone. Both he and Taylor thanked Josh for going out of his way for them when they pulled up outside their building, the two of them walking close once they stepped out of the car.

In the corridor before the stairs, Taylor nudged him with her elbow. “Wanna carry me up again?” she teased, and when she jokingly lifted her knee up for him she wasn’t expecting Harry to actually hook his arm underneath. Taylor squealed as he slung his other arm around her waist and seemingly effortlessly picked her up off the ground, spinning her around on the spot just to make her laugh.

“I was _kidding!”_ Taylor exclaimed, kicking her feet until he dutifully set her back down, his hand lingering on the small of her back.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining: you could’ve just gotten a free trip up the stairs without having to put in any effort,” Harry pointed out with a grin.

Taylor puckered her lips in reconsideration. “I change my mind,” she said quickly.

“Too late.”

Harry started for the stairs, hurrying up the first few steps and hearing Taylor giggle as she followed after them. The soles of their boots rang loud in the silent stairwell, the sounds of their laughter floating upwards ahead of them.

They adjusted their paces to realign with each other, taking up all the space as they climbed up side by side. Their hands brushed and Harry had to stop himself from taking hers, never really sure if she would mind. Compliments, though, he wasn’t so shy of.

“You really were amazing tonight, Taylor,” Harry flattered her, watching the reserved smile reappear on her face.

“So were you,” she returned, and he wasn’t quite sure why he decided to try to pry.

“Can I ask what it was you said?” he inquired, “When you went up to Sam?”

Taylor’s smile faded and she kept her eyes down on the stairs ahead of them, debating it. “No,” she answered bluntly, though within seconds she lifted her gaze to him and let him know she wasn’t actually serious. “He wanted to talk things through and I told him I wasn’t ready. Apparently he had stopped by here before but I haven’t really been answering the door to anyone, and like, I appreciate that he would rather talk in person, but showing up like that wasn’t the way to do it. I told him he could stay with us as long as he didn’t start any more drama or try to talk to me.”

“You really are a strong woman, you know?” Harry observed, and she smiled thankfully.

“You might’ve helped me a little,” she hinted, confusion washing over his face until she clarified, “You reminded me that I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me.”

As he recognised the line from one of the songs he had put on the CD he’d given her, Harry gave her a dimpled grin. He thought perhaps she might feel better sooner than he had first thought, but later, once they had retired to bed together, he fell asleep first and didn’t know she had lain awake much longer in restless thought. Asleep, he couldn’t hear her crying that night.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Will you hold still?”

_“Oww!”_

Mallory looked up at Harry unsympathetically from where she was pinning a pair of trousers in at his waist, his albeit small movement leading to his skin being accidentally pricked not what she would consider to be _her_ problem.

“I’m almost done,” she promised him, not for the first time.

In a moment of impulsive weakness, Harry had agreed to Mallory’s incessant pestering over using him for a fashion spread. He had been swayed by a mood board of 90’s grunge and a day off from his usual routine; Mallory had hardly been able to contain her excitement once she got the okay from Liza. Their boss thought she was getting a better deal than having to hire an actual model, but Harry had bargained his way into getting to keep the Vetements blazer when they were done, which didn’t make it such a cheap alternative after all. Maybe Harry should’ve agreed to this sooner.

Once Mallory had gotten a hold of the items she had booked for the shoot, she had stolen Harry from his desk and steered him into the break room for a fitting. It was a good thing he didn’t give a shit about stripping down in front of people, since they had co-workers wandering in and out occasionally and Jared had, of course, parked himself on the couch for the spectacle.

“Would you actually wear those on your own accord?” Jared asked of him, doubtfully eyeing the flared cut of the maroon pants he had been put into.

“Depends on the occasion,” Harry said, considering the comfortable fabric covering his lower half. “Maybe to a dinner party. Or on a date, depending on where we were going.” A glance at Jared turned into a pointed stare, recognising the persistent look that came to his face instantly. “Don’t you start.”

Ever since he had let it slip that his dream girl was officially unattached, Jared had gotten worse with the whole _“make her yours”_ thing. Harry was still at a loss as to why Jared was so interested in his love life – or lack thereof. He didn’t even care all that much himself. At least, that’s what he liked to think.

“Do you think she would like those pants?” Jared asked regardless.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Harry feigned unawareness. “There isn’t anyone I’m about to go on a date with.”

Mallory stood up and stepped back to admire her work. “Date or no date, they look great on you. You should think about wearing something other than skinny jeans more often.”

“I do own other pants, you know,” Harry defended himself, a smile on his face. “I just prefer wearing jeans to work.”

“You could’ve _at least_ worn chino shorts during summer,” she reasoned. “You could’ve shown off something other than your chest for a change.”

“If you’re asking to see my legs, you’re going to have to take me out for dinner first,” Harry couldn’t help but tease. “I’m not that easy.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Jared cheekily muttered, making Harry laugh as he recalled the few hook ups he had recounted to his friend since moving here. Maybe he was a _little,_ but only depending on the scenario.

“Can I really help that American girls find me utterly charming?” he said with a manufactured air of importance, and while Jared scoffed, Mallory seemed to take his side.

“Just think how many girls are going to be lusting over you after this shoot goes to print.”

“Only not the one he actually wants.”

“Will you fuck off?” Harry told the loud-mouthed boy on the couch, his tone light with friendliness rather than the bundle of irritation he really should’ve felt.

“Isn’t there something you should be doing?” Mallory questioned Jared with a harder edge in her voice, the look she gave him over her shoulder enough to make him raise his brows and reluctantly wander back to the office, probably to find someone else to bother.

“God, how do you stand him?” Mallory wrinkled her nose once he was out the door, picking up another cropped shirt for Harry to try on.

“He’s not really that bad,” Harry stuck up for his friend. “It’s a guy thing, I think.”

“Want to know what I think?”

“I’m not really sure.”

The two smiled at each other, Mallory taking his other top once he had pulled it off and carefully beginning to fold it again.

“I think you’re right not to listen to him,” she told him anyway. “From a girl’s perspective, if I just broke up with someone I’d loved for a long time, I wouldn’t want some other guy coming onto me straight away. That’s just… inappropriate. If things are meant to happen between you two, they will eventually. There’s no need to freak her out by immediately trying to get into her pants.”

“I don’t _just_ want to sleep with her,” Harry made sure that was clear. It was so, _so_ much more than that.

“ _I_ know that; Jared doesn’t seem to,” Mallory said. “Just don’t let him get to your head.”

Fiddling with the hem of the orange shirt he had been put into, Harry tilted his head at her curiously. “I thought you didn’t care about any of this.”

“I care about _you_ ,” she emphasised. “And I can tell when you talk about her that she makes you happy. So, like, keep doing what you’re doing, and I’m sure she’ll look at you the same way.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“Well…” Mallory paused, smiling a pink lipstick pout. “There’s always me.”

The both of them giggled, though considering they had always had a connection between them, it wasn’t such an impossible thing to joke about.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

The shower was running next door and Harry was weak. God knows how many times he had done this (though maybe it was the devil that did…), but he was lying on his bed and touching himself in the worst way, his mind conjuring up an immodest image that was too tempting to ignore. Well, for a horny young man it was, anyway.

It’s not like he did this _every_ day. It seemed like a significantly more enjoyable option than being frustrated all the time, especially when he saw the woman he thought about so often. The last thing he needed was to get a hard on in an awkward situation, so really, he was doing himself a favour.

Only a male would think he was doing himself a favour and not just an unspeakable indulgence by getting himself off over thoughts of one of his closest friends.

This time was a little worse. While his eyes were shut and his mind engrossed in an aching fantasy, Harry was completely lost from everything around him. He didn’t notice anything change, until he was suddenly startled out of his reverie by a loud scream coming from Taylor’s side. It was absolutely awful: that very moment, at that very sound, he had pleasure rippling right through him, covering his hand in a sticky mess. Her terrified scream had brought him to… _yeah._ He was shit.

Opening his eyes to take a look at his shameful self, Harry was confronted by pitch blackness. It was a blessing and a curse: he couldn’t see himself, but he couldn’t see _anything._ Fuck. Fuck, _fuck._

The same curse was being uttered next door loud enough for him to hear, and it was his natural instinct to call out to see if she was okay.

“Are you alright?”

“No!”

Shit. Now he felt obliged to do something, but in a questionable state and no usual light to see by, he couldn’t exactly dash right over.

Thank god he had brought his phone into his room with him. Fumbling a little, knocking what sounded like the coin he had found in his pocket the other night onto the floor, Harry managed to grab his phone off the bedside table and switch on the torch. The bright beam guided his way to the bathroom where he washed away his sins before going to find a pair of pants to put on. He sprayed a bit of deodorant on just in case, and before he headed next door he thought to switch off the couple lights he had had on.

The last time the power had gone out was a couple months ago. It was at night too, though later, when Harry had already gone to bed. He had only known it had happened because the clock on the oven had reset, the red numbers flashing waiting to be corrected when he got up for breakfast. In fixing it, he had accidentally set the timer, scaring the shit out of himself when it started beeping noisily a half hour later.

Taylor had her own phone for light when she opened the door for him. She was dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel.

“I was in the _shower,_ ” she outlined, a steady emphasis in her words. “I was having a fucking _shower_ when the power suddenly cuts!”

“Shit timing,” he noted.

“You think?”

When she let him inside, Harry could see her immediate efforts had been to make some light instead of getting dressed. She had lit some candles around the place, which was smart, definitely, but it didn’t exactly help his dirty mind to know that she was mere feet away from him completely naked under her red towel. Having sex during a blackout was a fun way to pass the time, wasn’t it?

In subtly checking her out, Harry noticed a more prominent line running down her calf, and a shine of his torch had him confirming it. “Tay, you’re bleeding.”

Pushing her towel up her leg and flashing her own light on herself, Taylor found a small cut on her knee, a nick from shaving that annoying bled more than she thought it should’ve. _“Shit,”_ she cursed, unnecessarily starting to hop on her other foot as she tried to think what to do.

“Sit down, love, I’ll get you a band-aid,” Harry offered, but she shook her head.

“I just need a tissue.”

Taylor did hop her way to the couch, grabbing a tissue off the side table and propping her leg up to tend to the cut. Harry helpfully sat beside her and shone his phone at her, giving her sufficient light to see to wipe the trail of blood from her skin before she balled the tissue up and pressed it to her knee to stop the flow.

“Thanks for noticing,” she said. “I knew I cut it but I didn’t think it was enough to bleed much. I’d be trailing water _and_ blood around if it weren’t for you.”

“What would you do without me?” he grinned cheekily, glad to see her smile back at him.

“I don’t know how I would _possibly_ go on,” Taylor replied theatrically, though there was an element of truth to her words. Neither of them could imagine their lives without the other, the period before they had met seeming so far back.

“Can I make a guess about the one thing we had in common the moment the power cut?” she went on to humour him.

“Other than we both weren’t expecting it?”

“We were both naked,” she predicted with such directness that Harry couldn’t contain his surprised laugh, his fist shooting up to press against his lips as if he could really hide his wide dimpled smile that easily.

Taylor was grinning too, and he dared to ask, “And what gives you that idea?”

“Oh please, you’re only wearing pants right now because of social convention,” she stated assuredly. “I _know_ you, Harry. And I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

She was, and he really hoped that she couldn’t also guess what he had been _doing._ That was a conversation he really wasn’t interested in having. (Not unless it ended with them doing it _together_ )

“You might be right,” Harry gave in, his smile confirming it more than his words did. “But I’m not really sure what that means.”

“That I’m a genius?” Taylor continued her playful certainty.

“That maybe you’re asking me to join you in still being naked?”

Jaw dropping at his joking remark, Taylor smacked his bare chest with the back of her hand. “We are _not_ turning this blackout into some kind of orgy.”

“We’d need more people for that. Maybe we could rally up the rest of our floor. I’m sure the guy from 42 would _love_ to get a good look at your tits.”

The thought had Taylor gagging. “You’re disgusting.”

“Imagine him sitting right next to you,” Harry teasingly went on, shuffling over as close as he could get to her and putting his arm around her shoulders. “Totally naked. Leaning in and whispering in your ear… ‘ _I want to come all over your tits_.’”

Taylor shuddered, giving him a shove with her shoulder for the unwanted mental image. “I deeply regret ever bringing this up. But, for the record, if I _had_ to have him, you’d get the lady from 26.”

“Not the one that smells like cabbage,” he whined.

“Maybe she would feed you some while you were at it, like a reward. _‘Oh, Harry, you feel so good. Here, have some coleslaw.’_ ”

Perhaps the worst thing about this conversation wasn’t the subject matter, but that the both of them found their mocking seductive voices arousing. Harry, for one, was glad he had already given himself a going over that night.

“I _would_ like a woman who would take care of me,” he acknowledged, and Taylor just laughed.

“Please find one who smells of something more flattering and isn’t three times your age.”

Yeah, he’d prefer that too.

“I’m gonna go put some clothes on, I’m getting cold like this,” she then said, escaping his embrace and the thought that if she just stayed there as she was she could get as warm as she wanted. It was for the best, really. They teased each other like that every now and then, but never in the dark with so few layers on. The line between them wasn’t yet ready to be crossed.

Harry waited on the couch by the light of the few candles, switching the one on his phone off to save battery. He was met by Meredith, who wandered up out of the shadows and sat beside him for a bit of a pat. It always made Taylor a little jealous seeing her buddy up to anyone but her, considering how often she got attitude from the cat when _she_ was the one who took care of her.

Meredith mewed when Taylor returned after a short while, having slipped into the comfort of her pyjamas and been through her nightly routine. She looked soft in her kitten print pants and loose tee, the candle glow illuminating her kindly as she sat back down beside him. It was starting to smell like vanilla in the air, a scent he now always attributed to her.

“Do you wanna stay over?” Taylor asked him as she got herself settled. “The rest of my night’s been ruined.”

“What did you have planned?”

“I wanted to blow dry my hair and paint my nails,” she smiled, wiggling her bare fingers at him. “Please stay. We can go to bed soon, if you’re tired.”

“Of course I’ll stay,” Harry agreed, hardly having to consider it. He would stay with her every night if that’s what she wanted.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what are you planning on wearing to the Halloween party?” he remembered to add.

The lot of them had been invited to a big Halloween bash on the Saturday closest to the holiday, hosted by friends of friends. Harry had been to spooky themed nights in university, but it was a much bigger deal here and he was keen to see what it was really like.

Then, Taylor dropped a bomb on him. “Actually, I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

“Why not?” Harry immediately questioned, his brow furrowing.

“I don’t really feel like it this year,” she explained, which for someone who loved the opportunity to dress up, meant there really was something wrong.

“But… You said that you love Halloween,” he scrambled to understand.

“I do! I totally do, it’s just that…” Taylor sighed. “A huge party doesn’t sound like what I’m up for right now.”

It made sense. She hadn’t been incredibly enthusiastic about going out over these past few weeks, and a party full of people would be pretty overwhelming. But he still got the feeling that wasn’t the only thing warding her off.

“Is there something else?”

She started chewing her lip, which was an answer in itself.

“It’s just… Some of the girls are kind of…” she spoke warily. “They think the party is the perfect opportunity for me to… see someone new. And I don’t want that.”

“So tell them no,” he said reasonably. “They can’t force you into being with someone.”

“I tried, but this is coming from people who are comfortable with strangers. These parties can be like breeding grounds, there’ll be people hooking up everywhere. Everyone will have someone, and I’d rather not be around to watch.”

“I don’t have anyone,” he naively pointed out.

“You’re gorgeous, Harry, you won’t have any problem with girls trying to get your attention.”

Nice to know.

“I’m just not the kind of person who is happy with sleeping with someone I just met and will probably never see again,” Taylor asserted. “And sure, they’re right that I miss having someone to be intimate with, but hooking up with a stranger isn’t my ideal way to fix it.”

“That’s what vibrators are for,” Harry said without thinking. Taylor’s eyes widened and he gave an embarrassed smile, pressing his lips together. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“It’s okay,” she laughed.

“I know you like to keep that kind of thing private.”

“Yeah, but I trust you like you’re my brother,” she smiled warmly. “Only I wouldn’t tell my actual brother _anything_ remotely sexual about myself. That’s going too far.”

“I really don’t want to know what my sister and her boyfriend get up to,” he thought with a disturbed wrinkle of his nose.

“Forget the sibling thing,” Taylor said with quick waves of her hands, pushing away the unwanted idea. “My point is that I trust you. And I’m always comfortable with you, y’know? I think if any other guy said that to me, I’d run.”

Harry laughed with her. “It _is_ my actual advice, though: forget finding some random guy you don’t even want, just have some fun with yourself. At least you can make it exactly how you like.”

“That’s true,” she nodded. “But I think what I miss most is… You know the moment afterwards, when it’s all done, and you’re lying together in each other’s arms, and everything’s quiet and you can feel their heartbeat start to slow back down and you think… you’re so lucky to love this person and have them love you back. In that moment, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be, no one else you’re thinking of, it’s just all about the two of you and what you just shared. It’s perfect. It’s honest. And I think it’s my favourite part.”

Her soft-spoken words got to them both. They each glanced away, Taylor swallowing hard while Harry hoped his goose bumps weren’t noticeable in the candlelight. It had been a long time since he had felt what she described, a long time since he had whispered ‘I love you’ to someone in between the sheets. He got a flash of her face and her wild red hair, could almost hear her voice calling him ‘pretty boy’ in her East London accent. He reminded himself that that girl hadn’t been as good as he’d thought, but he was quiet just long enough to concern Taylor.

“Harry?”

“Yeah,” he quickly responded. “It’s just, I know what you mean. ‘s nice.”

At twenty-two, he didn’t know it as well as the woman beside him, but he understood it enough to know it was a romantic’s dream. Maybe one day it could be one they shared.

“If,” Harry started to propose, “if I promise not to leave you all night, will you come to the party? No one can try to fix you up that way. I’ll scare off anyone that tries to hit on you, and we can have fun together. Please? I don’t want to have my first Halloween here without you.”

It was total honesty, and it had Taylor smiling, reaching out to slowly tuck his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you want to waste the opportunity to hook up with a pretty girl in a barely-there costume?”

“Pretty sure I could get laid any other day of the week,” he said, grinning as Taylor laughed at him.

“I don’t really want you to have your first Halloween without me, either,” she admitted. “I’ll go. For you.”

It was a simple promise that spoke volumes. Taylor trusted him, and he was in a special place in her heart that he was yet to really understand.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Harry had the best Halloween he had ever had all because of Taylor.

When the two of them decided to buddy up for the event, they went all out. No half-assed costumes and no acceptance of pre-drinks with any of their other friends – this was going to be a night to remember, just for the two of them.

It was kind of miraculous what Taylor had managed to pull off in a short amount of time. After they had thrown around some costume ideas, most silly or too hard to create, it had taken little convincing for Harry to agree to go matching with her. Maybe he should’ve been more opposed to what they had decided on, but he didn’t really give a shit what other people thought. Thanks to Taylor, he looked incredible.

They spent hours before the party getting ready together. Well, a lot of that time was spent lounging around, talking and taking pictures and singing along to the music they had playing. They ate pizza and drank Coke and vodka in their underwear like two best friends having a sleepover.

Taylor had such a gentle touch with him. She was relieved that he wasn’t shy about letting her put some of her make-up on him, having already planned what she wanted to do with him. Some contouring on his cheekbones, a dusting of loose shimmery powder over his eyelids, and a shining array of diamontés decorating around his eyes made quite the change to his usually clean face. She had some body glitter, too, that she rubbed onto his shoulders and over his chest, using less the further she reached down his torso and his arms.

From years of experience doing her own hair, Taylor expertly tonged his, emphasising the natural curls of his thick locks with soft, neat twists. Harry watched her form waves in her blonde bob after finishing with him and couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if she grew it out long again.

Taylor kept to her natural make-up routine, a soft pink on her lips and cheeks. He was intrigued watching her try to glue on a pair of false eyelashes correctly, was entranced as soon as she aced it and gave him a flirty little flutter. Her eyes sparkled with the rest of the silver jewels stuck around them, the two of them quite the glimmering pair.

It was almost kind of disappointing when Taylor stepped into the dress she was spending the night in, after having seen her laze around in a silky robe that had a habit of untying and showing off the matching white underwear she had on underneath when she danced around. He still had the image in his head of her rolling around on her bed, making fun of herself as she pretended to act sensual as she lip-synced to ‘Love Me Like You Do’ by Ellie Goulding. She might’ve only been joking, but Harry had snapped some Polaroids that proved she wasn’t as far off the mark as she thought herself to be.

In the floaty white dress she had been lucky to find at the perfect time, Taylor looked as every bit ethereal as she was intending to. The lace flowed over her body, swished around her with every step and twirl she gave. The thin sleeves floated over the full length of her arms, a few silver rings decorating her hands. Her shoes were a simple nude pair of pumps with a string of ribbon tied up her ankles like a ballerina, only this pretty girl had a pair of fairy wings and not quite so much grace on a dance floor.

Where Taylor had really struck luck was in hunting down Harry’s costume. Not every guy would’ve gone along with it, but when Taylor had shown him a pair of white lacy pants – _girl’s_ pants – that matched her dress perfectly, he hadn’t even hesitated. The store had only had a couple pairs left, thankfully in a size that would fit him, and when he tried them on, he thought they were really fucking cool. They were loose and comfortable and he didn’t feel at all self-conscious. He felt a bit like a hippy, actually.

“You look incredible,” Taylor marvelled at her work.

“You think so?”

Looking in the mirror, Harry adjusted the elastic straps of his own fairy wings. He had to admit, he didn’t look ridiculous. He’d seen guys wear fairy wings at parties before, but not like _this_. He actually looked properly mythical, thanks to Taylor’s efforts, and not at all like a joke. He was young and confident and he didn’t give a shit about any dumb comments people might offer him: he was going to the party with a beautiful girl who wanted to be a perfect, matching duo. How many other people there would be able to say that?

“Thanks for all this, Tay,” Harry smiled at her warmly.

“Thanks for not letting me stay in tonight,” Taylor beamed back at him. “I’m already having more fun than if I’d just stayed here eating candy by myself.”

“I’m glad to hear I’m a step up from eating candy alone. I was getting worried for a moment.”

“It’s only a _small_ step, so don’t get too excited.”

They grinned over their playful teasing; there was plenty more where that came from.

They left on time to arrive fashionably late, getting a taxi across town to the house that already appeared inundated with party goers. Light peeked out through cracks in curtains, and as the two of them walked up the yard hand in hand, they could hear the thump of a bass. The neighbours were in for a treat tonight.

“Karlie, Em, and Maddy should all be here already,” Taylor let him know, glancing between her phone and the grass ahead of her. “ _Ooh_ – Karlie says they’re by a skeleton wearing a top hat; we can’t miss it.”

Harry nodded, and Taylor pulled him ahead through the unlocked door, smacking right into his bare chest as she suddenly stepped back in fright at the sight of the giant spider decoration dangling from the ceiling right in the entryway. Trying to conceal his laughter, he wrapped his arms around her, careful of her wings. It gave her an instant sense of comfort.

As they manoeuvred their way through the house, they discovered more spooky adornments all over the place, from cobwebs to witch’s hats to hand-carved pumpkins. The lights had been dimmed for atmosphere, with orange lanterns dotted around to give off a warm glow, casting shadows over everyone around. The costumes were a usual mixed array of effort and creativity – they saw at least three vampires, a couple in matching police officer outfits, and more than one pigtailed girl dressed as Harley Quinn. They were yet to find anyone else donning fairy wings.

The gentlemanly skeleton was in the dining room, propped up to be looking over the table that was covered in bowls of snacks. The girls were easy to spot (it was hard to miss all six foot one of Karlie, especially when she was in heels), and each of them lit up with smiles when they saw the pair walking towards them.

“You _guys!”_ Emilia gushed, opening her arms to snatch them up in a group hug. “You look _adorable!”_

“You look _hot_ ,” Taylor emphasised back, her gaze taking in the younger girl’s tight leather-look firefighter costume that didn’t seem to resemble anything a real firefighter would wear, aside from the fake ‘NYFD’ logo on the chest pocket. The dress was sexy, though, especially thanks to the low cut showing off plenty of cleavage.

“Are you _kidding?_ Cheetah Girl over here is making all of us look like shit.”

Karlie, in her slinky spotted bodysuit, held her hands up in surrender. “I never asked to be this conspicuous.”

“You could’ve worn flats,” Emilia insisted for what probably wasn’t the first time, her ponytail flipping as she moved her head. “Or something totally un-sexy. You’re totally covered and you’ve even managed to get your boobs out now.”

Emilia poked the strategic triangle cut out in Karlie’s outfit, the perfect window for her blessed chest to be revealed through.

“Josh is going to be all over you,” Taylor was sure. “If he hasn’t been already.”

The girls giggled, louder when Karlie admitted, “Maybe when I bought it.”

“I hope you’ve got something hot on under that, missy,” Emilia looked back at Taylor, giving a light tug on her dress.

“I hate to disappoint, but I’m the only one who left my push up bra at home, sorry,” she replied, not looking sorry at all.

“Please say you’ve at least got a thong.”

“God no. I’m not subjecting myself to a permanent wedgie when there’s no man to relieve me at the end of the night.”

They had apparently forgotten Harry was there and he was yet again given an exclusive insight into the elusive realm of Girl Talk. Maybe it was just like Taylor thought: he was easy to talk to, and they trusted him. He was never about to make some inappropriate comment, not like some of the other guys they knew. He had been raised well, and he was just as welcome as one of the girls.

Even when he did slide in with a casual, “Least you’re not wearing Bridget Jones pants,” they didn’t shoot him looks of horror, but rather the kind of gooey looks they might give Mark Darcy.

“You’ve watched _Bridget Jones’ Diary_?” Maddy spoke up, and when he nodded they all kind of sighed, like they still found his Britishness completely endearing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emilia quickly waved her hand, breaking the pleasant bubble they’d suddenly formed. “Let’s not get distracted from the important thing here… How do _you_ know what Taylor’s panties look like?”

“Oh, _no,_ ” Taylor cut in firmly. “Don’t you start on this too. He saw me get dressed; it was all perfectly innocent.”

Harry remembered her lying on her bed with her robe slipped open and wishing he could go down on her, which was a far cry from innocent. Just like he hadn’t said anything then, he wasn’t going to now.

“Where are the drinks at?” she asked, and it probably seemed like an all too convenient diversion, especially as Harry joined her in heading for the kitchen. They left three sets of raised eyebrows and meaningful glances, but Taylor didn’t seem to care what they thought.

Swiping a couple of gummy worms from the food table on the way, Harry chewed contentedly as he followed close behind through to the kitchen. A guy in a devil costume bumped into him by accident and surprisingly apologised, leaving him feeling notably upbeat.

Taylor perused the kitchen bench to see what was on offer, glancing at Harry with a fond expression as he seemed more interested in the candy in his hand. She got his attention by touching his arm, waving a half empty bottle of vodka in her other hand temptingly. “Vodka or beer?”

“Vodka,” he answered easily, biting the tail off a sour worm as he watched her grab a can of Coke out of the fridge and split it between two plastic cups, pouring a generous splash of alcohol into each. “Hey, Tay,” he said slowly. “I just want to, um. I think you look really nice, even when you’re not trying to dress up like that.”

The compliment was unexpected, bringing a small smile to Taylor’s lips. “You really don’t have to say that.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, her eyes finding his. “You always look amazing, no matter what you’re wearing. You’re really… You don’t need fancy stuff to be attractive.”

Taylor just looked at him for a moment, studying him, perhaps, before she said a genuine, “Thank you. You’re too sweet for your own good, but thank you.”

Each taking a cup, they weaved back to the others, the five of them chatting together for a while before the boys showed up. Teo and Josh had teamed up with a couple of guys Harry hadn’t met before in creating a small pack of zombies, with ripped shirts splattered with red paint and fake bloody bandages on various limbs. They looked pretty cool, though with Teo no doubt having control over their outfits, that wasn’t surprising. He knew his stuff, and if ever there was a chic zombie, it was him.

Before long, they were relocating and dispersing, heading to dance or get drinks or say hello to other guests they knew. Harry always stayed with Taylor, just as he promised. They danced in a small group in the lounge, mashed in between others. Callum and Levi appeared mid-song at one point to join them, sliding in as normal. They all, especially Taylor, knew they were going to see Sam around eventually, but none of them were expecting it to be quite in the way it went.

Cruelly (or perhaps instinctively), Taylor was the first to spot him. It made her stop dancing to the Lady Gaga track that was playing and take a step back, the colour draining from her face. When Harry noticed, he immediately thought she was about to throw up, and when he looked in the direction her stare was fixed on, he could’ve very well been right.

Sam had a girl grinding against him in the corner of the room. Not just any girl, either: he had his hands on her assuredly, and he kissed her. He _kissed_ her.

It made Taylor run.

Those with their backs to the spectacle were confused by Taylor’s sudden escape, but Harry was quick to follow the path she forced herself through. She fled out the front door and down the steps, hugging her stomach as she breathed in fresh air, trying to calm herself down.

“I feel like I’m gonna hurl,” she warned him when he caught up and pulled her into a hug. “Oh, god, I can’t believe it. I can’t.”

“He’s a dick,” Harry hissed, holding her tightly.

“He didn’t even notice me.”

He soon heard a sniffle and he began rubbing her back. “Hey, hey – no crying. No crying, love.”

“Do you think she’s the one?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know but I’m so sorry.”

Pulling back a little to look at him after a moment, Taylor’s eyes were glassy pools. “I wasn’t ready to see him like that,” she said softly, and Harry nodded.

“You shouldn’t have to see it,” he said. “We can go, if you like.”

“I don’t want to be a baby about it.”

“You’re not a baby.” Harry held her closer again. “I mean, not like that.”

Taylor started to smile again as she buried her face in his hair. “Are you calling me baby?”

“Is it making you feel better?” Harry cheekily grinned, and the two of them gave gentle laughs.

“Say it again.”

“Taylor, baby,” he drawled, delighted by the giggle that filled his ear. “Want to go get another drink, then? Something to eat?”

“You just want more of those gummy worms,” Taylor teased him, though it was actually true.

He laughed, “Give me a break, baby.”

For all the times Harry thought about how much Taylor meant to him, he didn’t spend nearly as much considering how deeply grateful she was to have him in her life. How quickly he managed to swing her mood back around and get her smiling again, without needing to kiss her or drown her in compliments, was a testament to the strength of their bond. He was a man she trusted wholeheartedly and with good reason: he was nothing but good to her, which, for someone who wasn’t a stranger to having her kind heart taken advantage of, was an overwhelming relief.

With Harry at her side, Taylor felt a reassurance in returning to the party where she could be confronted by the image of her cheating ex-boyfriend playing tonsil hockey with some other girl at any moment. Harry fixed her a new drink – after they stopped to nick some more of the candy he wanted – and he distracted her by messing around. Dramatically singing along to the mainstream music, pulling the worst dance moves, dropping a gummy worm into his cup – he did anything to try to make her laugh. (Except choking on the worm when he skulled the rest of his drink. That was an accident.)

His efforts were well received. Taylor seemed back to her usual happy self when they met back up with Karlie and Maddy a little later; she didn’t bat an eyelid when Steph gave them a passing hello, decked out in what looked like just a set of lingerie. She seemed unaffected by the flirty comment Steph gave Harry, and most remarkably she completely blanked Sam when he and Levi briefly joined them. It was like he didn’t mean anything to her. If Harry hadn’t witnessed how she had reacted before, he might’ve truly bought into her façade.

It was when the two of them were alone again that she gave up her act, leaning back against the wall and looking longingly over at where Sam was sitting on a sofa with The Girl balanced on his lap.

“She’s really pretty,” Taylor sighed, though Harry was too busy looking at her to notice.

“Don’t torture yourself like this, Tay,” he advised her, knowing there was never going to be good in making comparisons.

“ _Look_ at her,” she went on regardless. “Her boobs are amazing; no wonder he wants to fuck her instead of me.”

_“Hey,”_ Harry nudged her with his elbow. “You’ve got an incredible body; don’t put yourself down.”

“My boobs aren’t that big. I’d need a really good bra to even _try_ to look like that.”

“I think your boobs are great as they are,” he told her honestly, which had her turning her head to him and giving him a challenging stare.

“You haven’t even _seen_ my boobs.”

“Well… _clothed,_ they look nice.”

Taylor’s eyes never left his, a smile teasing her lips as she paused for a moment. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m not fucking with you,” he laughed.

“Are you _sure_ you’re not just drunk and fucking with me?”

“If I was drunk, I’d be a lot more forward with you.”

He was already testing the boundaries a little more than usual – he didn’t need to fill himself with more alcohol that would give him a misguided sense of confidence. Fucking things up between them was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Wanna do some shots, then?” Taylor suggested, and he raised his brows unexpectedly.

“You want to get me drunk?”

“I want to get the _both of us_ drunk,” she clarified, and he probably would’ve been wise not to give into the frisky smirk on her pink lips.

But, of course, Harry let her take his hand and tug him towards the kitchen, where they rinsed out some glasses and downed a couple shots. Their usual vodka Coke mixture turned more parts alcohol than fizzy drink, and it was when they were back on the dance floor that everything they’d had tonight really caught up with them.

When she didn’t get herself hammered, Taylor was a pretty fun drunk. She smiled a lot – everything was funnier. She always loved to dance, but especially so when she had downed a few. She was flirtier, too, which Harry hadn’t really experienced until tonight.

A part of him wondered whether he had entered some kind of parallel universe when he found himself being the one Taylor danced sexier with (or at least, _tried_ to). She swayed her hips and ran her hands over her body, slid her arms over his shoulders and didn’t seem opposed to having Harry rest his hands on her waist and wander around her back. Two awkward dancers, they somehow flowed together, just as much when they were close like this as they were when they were apart.

They were unaware that they had an audience; everyone else had just kind of faded out, had become just a part of the background that needn’t require much attention. For all the sneaky staring Taylor had given him, Sam’s gaze found her too every so often, and even though he didn’t have a reason to be jealous anymore, he wasn’t keen on seeing her and Harry together like that. Maybe if it were someone else, he might’ve felt a bit differently, but he had always had something against Harry.

Sam didn’t try to call them out, thank god. That was an interaction none of them were interested in having.

After losing themselves in the music and each other for quite a while, they drifted outside for some fresh air. The backyard wasn’t all that big, the raised deck taking up a good portion of the space, and yet people were scattered all over, lurking in the shadows in a bid for privacy. Some of their own were there: they spotted Emilia and a guy they didn’t recognise not too far from the house looking _very_ friendly. They giggled; it was just what she had been hoping to get out of tonight.

The shadows weren’t for them, so they found a space on the edge of the deck and sat with their legs dangling over, both of them tall enough to touch the ground below with their toes.

“Thanks for staying with me tonight,” Taylor said, turning her head to him, the jewels on her face glistening in the outside light.

“Thank _you_ for wanting me around,” Harry replied, and as light as he meant it, there was a whole lot more hidden behind those six words.

“How could anyone not want you? You’re kind, and cute. Really cute.”

Taylor giggled as she gently ran her fingers along his jaw, the smile she brought to his face only seeming to prove her point.

“You think so?” he asked, and she nodded definitely.

“Though, right now, it’s probably not the most accurate word.”

“Why not?”

“You look really hot without a shirt on,” Taylor smiled at him honestly, giggling again. In a clearer state of mind, he might’ve realised how often she saw him without one, but he was too wrapped up in the compliment to currently notice.

“I think it’s the tattoos,” she went on. “They’re interesting.”

Her fingers ghosted over his chest and down his arm, goose bumps rising on his skin. Harry hoped that, if she noticed, she would just think it was from the cool night air.

“You know how many people just look at you? All the time, wherever we go, people look at you. Like you’re a painting.”

“Are you sure they’re not looking at you?” Harry returned, more convinced that it was her that captured more attention.

Taylor, though, shook her head. “No way. It’s definitely you.”

“But you’re beautiful, Tay. Who wouldn’t want to look at you?”

“I can think of one person.”

“I can think of another who wouldn’t mind looking at you always.”

Even in the darkness, the flush rising in Taylor’s cheeks as she gave an inspired smile was detectable, and Harry was glad to receive such a sweet reaction to his impulsive thought.

“You’re too charming for your own good,” she happily informed him.

“You’re not the first girl to tell me that.” He leaned in closer to her, grinning. “But you’re the prettiest.”

Taylor couldn’t stop smiling; he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was loving it. He wouldn’t go far, but a little was fun. _Really_ fun.

“Harry. Harold, baby,” Taylor grinned, cupping either side of his face with her gentle hands.

“That’s not my name,” Harry pointed out.

“I don’t care,” she laughed. “You’re so cute, okay? You should find a nice girl you can love. You’re _so_ good; you deserve it. You deserve so much love.”

Harry only gave a quiet, “Thank you.” For everything that had happened between them tonight, let alone over the last few months, he wondered if it had ever occurred to her that maybe _she_ could be that nice girl. That he _wanted_ her to be that nice girl. That anyone who looked at them tonight just assumed they were _together_ together.

He couldn’t be the only one who felt they had a connection. He couldn’t.

He would wear fairy wings and diamontés on his face every single day if it meant she would feel it too. He would.


	6. Chapter Six

The sound of fingers tapping on keyboards was broken up by Harry rapping his knuckles on his desk. With his interview for the day rescheduled at the last minute thanks to the musician falling ill, he was at a bit of a loss. He hadn’t been expecting his day plans to change; the smartest thing he could do was switch his plans for today with the new interview’s date next week.

If only he could be bothered. He had intended on an easy day: bit of work in the office in the morning, interview in the afternoon at a café, head home early. Once you got that kind of easy-goingness in your head, changing perspective wasn’t exactly fun.

Harry shouldn’t have texted Taylor, but he did. _‘Want to go for lunch?’_ he asked her, figuring there wasn’t any harm in that. He went out for lunch during work all the time.

Except he knew he wouldn’t want to return to the office. Then again, he hadn’t _told_ anyone his interview had changed, so who would know if he bunked off the rest of the day? It wouldn’t matter, really. He always kept on top of things.

When Taylor messaged him back after not too long, Harry smiled to himself, accepting that he wasn’t going to be productive this afternoon after all.

 **Text: from _Taylor_**  
**> >** _YES SAVE ME FROM THIS CLASS_  
**> >** _I stayed up FOREVER finishing this assignment and the prof just gave us an extension. AN EXTENSION!!!_  
**> >** _Taylor is not impressed_  
**> >** _[IMG]_

The picture was a selfie she had sneakily snapped in her class, and yes, she looked tired and wildly unimpressed, but she also looked as cute as ever. Harry was convinced it was physically impossible for her to look like shit.

A bit of back and forth had them arranging to meet at their usual spot, the one Taylor and Karlie preferred. Harry pushed through some editing and a bit of research, keeping an eye on the clock in the corner of his screen so he knew when to leave. She wouldn’t mind if he was late, but he was feeling restless. He wasn’t entirely sure why, either.

It could’ve been that he was keeping something from her, something quite momentous, but what was the point in a surprise if you blew it the first chance you got?

Harry was determined to keep tight lipped on the Thing That Wasn’t Going to Be Spoken About to Anyone Apart from Two People Until It Was Ready to Be Heard. It wasn’t a simple task, not when he was _dying_ to tell her, sure of the excitement it would bring her, but he was trying. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take him long to get to where he wanted to be.

Finally, the clock reached the time Harry had appointed time to go, and he packed his things and made his way out, receiving friendly goodbyes rather than probing questions. The staff of _A.N.Y._ came and went all the time – it was nothing new.

It was the first Wednesday of November and Harry was spending it in a café with Taylor. Winter was finding its feet and the air was cold out, thankfully no sign of rain today. Wouldn’t want to _dampen_ the mood, would we?

Waiting outside for her, Harry inspected the strap on his bag that looked as if it might be weakening, stitches beginning to come loose. He didn’t have anything to fix it himself – he’d have to remember to ask Mallory to tend to it, her stylist capabilities allowing her to mend just about anything.

Harry looked up just in time to see Taylor approaching down the footpath, a smile immediately rising on her lips as their gazes met. An unexpected spring in her step, the soles of her Oxfords tapped on the pavement as she strode over to him, immediately collapsing in his arms when she reached him.

“I’m _so_ tired,” she announced in a whine as they hugged each other there in the street. “Who gives extensions _the day_ an assignment is due? That’s just insane.”

“Least you’ve gotten it done,” Harry tried to point out a plus side. “You can focus on other things, now.”

“Please don’t remind me I have a French test on Friday to study for.” Taylor pulled back from him, looking like a few extra hours of sleep would’ve done her some good. Or at least, she wished her class schedule hadn’t changed this semester and she could still be enjoying her job on Wednesdays. “You’re so lucky you’re not still in school.”

“You’ll be fine, Tay,” he reassured her. “An afternoon with me should lift your spirits.”

That made her smile, and she tucked her hair behind her ear after she nodded her agreement. It was back to normal now: her hair appointment yesterday had reunited her with her natural golden blonde. “It’s not really me,” she’d said of her platinum locks. He hadn’t told her, but he liked her hair the colour it had always been better anyway.

They chose to sit inside today, securing a table for two against the wall and placing their orders at the counter. Taylor fiddled with the number they were given and Harry noticed the red she had painted her nails, probably in a spell of procrastination.

“Meredith threw up in the shower this morning,” she enlightened him, and he scoffed a laugh.

“We’re about to _eat_.”

“And I’m telling you about my day, _as friends do_ ,” Taylor smiled at him. “At least she was kind enough to do it where I could easily clean it up. If I’d had to scrub the floor this morning, I probably would’ve cried.”

“Is she alright?”

“I think so. I’m also alright, in case you were wondering.”

Harry leaned forward, smiling wide as he tilted her chin up. “I _was_ wondering. You’re wearing your glasses.”

“That is a fine observation, Styles. You should become a detective.”

Sitting back, he failed to hide his amusement at her sarcasm. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m trying to hide my eyes,” she properly replied, trying to brush her hair over the sleek black frames that couldn’t totally distract from the red in her tired eyes. “My bangs aren’t long enough. Feel how soft my hair is, though.”

So he reached over and touched her hair, and it _was_ soft, and they briefly discussed hair products before a waitress brought their food to their table. Both politely offering thanks, they began tucking into their fresh sandwiches.

She asked him about his day at work so far, and when he explained about the sick musician who had shuffled his schedule, she got a cheekiness in her smile.

“So you’re saying you’re skipping work to hang out with me just ‘cause some guy cancelled on you?”

“I think you’ll find I always get a lunch break,” Harry pointed out even though, yes, that was exactly what he meant.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” she questioned.

“We make our own calendars. It doesn’t really matter when things get done, just as long as they’re done on time.”

The casualness of it all was a little bewildering, but in such an enjoyable environment, there were never really any problems with people not meeting deadlines. With the freedom to kind of be your own boss, as long as you met the given requirements, the sense of importance and responsibility seemed to promote productivity. It was a system that worked, and Harry knew how lucky he was to be in his position.

“We could go in a record store and I could count it as research,” he reasoned, which made Taylor laugh.

“We could go in any store and listen to the music coming from the speakers and you could call it research, if it would make you feel better about totally skipping out on work, which is _exactly_ what you’re trying to do.”

“I’m not in the _frame of mind_ to write; I was all ready to be talking to someone today. What’s the point in writing something that’s just going to turn out shit and I’ll have to redo? _You_ should understand that.”

Taylor gave an overdramatic sigh. “I _do._ And I guess if you’re gonna be all _rebellious_ and skip work, I might as well tag along, make sure you don’t do anything too crazy.”

“It’s not skipping if I never planned to be in the office this afternoon.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

As much as she teased him, Harry knew that she was happy to be spending time with him (although, she probably would’ve been happier with a nap first). Taylor complimented his outfit of the day – Pink Floyd t-shirt, black coat over the top – and told him how much he looked like a music journalist, and he returned it with how studious she looked in her glasses and knit dress.

“But do I look like a writer?” she asked, and he nodded definitely.

If she looked like a teacher was what she should’ve been asking. Neither of them picked up on it, or what it meant Taylor was really after.

They chatted over their meal about work and college; they never ran out of things to say to each other. There was always something – whether it was something that had happened to them, something they’d seen or heard, there was always something. It was nice to have that kind of friend.

Even after their sandwiches were finished, they hung around for a while, enjoying the peacefulness of the café that wasn’t all that busy having passed the usual lunch hour. It was a cute place, this one – Harry suspected people working further into the city hadn’t heard of it, making it easier for those who did to score a seat. Longingly, he hoped to one day be able to take Taylor home with him and show her the cafés he knew and was sure she would adore.

When they finally left, they headed for the nearest subway, the easiest way to get into the heart of New York. It wasn’t too far to walk; Taylor’s car was parked nearby and would take them back to their apartment block later. For now, the shopping district was calling their names.

Despite having lived here for nearly a year now, Harry still wasn’t used to the hectic nature of one of the biggest cities in the world. He’d felt the same when he had moved to London: growing up in a small village in England didn’t prepare you for fast paced cities filled with so many people, all lost in their own world that, for a second, might collide with yours. Every single one of them played a small part in a bigger picture. Harry didn’t think he would ever truly call himself a New Yorker, but he was in a much better place now than he had been when he had first gotten here.

Taylor reached for his hand when they boarded the busy train and didn’t let go when they reached their station and exited onto the street. They weren’t likely to lose each other, but their interlaced hands tethered them together for certain, keeping them right where they should be.

As they began browsing through some stores, it wasn’t really necessary for them to keep a hold of each other like that, but neither of them seemed to want to let go. Her hand was soft and warm, smaller and more delicate with her long thin fingers, fitting perfectly in Harry’s. Holding her hand was kind of like a dream.

The dream had them flowing in and out of many sparkly retailers, mostly just looking around. Harry tried to convince himself that he really did not need to be spending anything, which was easier in the women’s stores Taylor led him into, but even then he found himself admiring some of the jewellery and shirts that were unlikely to fit him properly.

Taylor was the first one to cave and pull out her purse: it was a crop top covered in cat motifs that did it. There was no way she could’ve possibly made her legs walk her back out the shop without it after she’d laid eyes on it; Harry would’ve bought it for her himself if she hadn’t had the money, for her reaction of a dropped jaw and adorable little squealing sound when she first saw it on the rack was too endearing for him to handle.

They spent too long in a stationary store that had everything neatly arranged by colour code. Stepping inside was a curse: it was impractical to walk in without the intention of buying something. They marvelled over fresh journals and shiny pens like kids in a candy store, forcing themselves to pick only their favourites. Taylor chose a set of pastel sticky notes that cost twice that of ones you would find in a supermarket, while Harry left with a small blue notepad with a drawing of a little bird on the bottom corner of each of the sheets. On the first page was Taylor’s signature, which she had sneakily scribbled using one of the pens. It was a page he was certain he would keep.

They made it to Sephora, where Taylor picked up a new bottle of the foundation she had been after. It was more expensive than Harry thought it really should be, but she assured him that it lasted a long time and was totally worth it.

“I mean, look how super smooth my skin looks,” she highlighted, resting her hand under her chin and looking altogether delightful.

She got distracted by some new shades of nail polish until she tuned into the song playing through the store’s speakers and she started singing along, like she so often did (even when she was on her own). There was something remarkable about watching the same girl who had just bought a cat shirt suddenly break into ‘Side to Side’ by Ariana Grande, especially when that same girl didn’t sing the censored version and a nearby woman with a baby glared at her. Harry was trying to stop himself from laughing as they quickly hurried off; that was a look Taylor was _not_ used to getting from strangers.

“How does she think she _had_ that baby?” Taylor lowered her voice to him once they were safely out of earshot of the unimpressed mother.

“You really do give zero fucks, don’t you?” Harry teased, and they were both giggling childishly as his arm moved around her waist, their hips bumping.

Taylor seemed to be doing better lately, especially today. The heartbreak that had been holding a part of her back seemed to be dissipating, and the liveliness in her personality was resurfacing. All through lunch, Taylor had gazed at him with a soft smile and a lightness in her eyes that he recognised but couldn’t quite place. It was lovely to see; she deserved so wholly to be happy.

At the Halloween party, while they had been sitting outside, Harry had asked her whether she still loved Sam. It was a stupid thing to say, maybe, but the alcohol in her had provided him with the truth.

“I think for me,” she had told him, “I find it hard to let go. I’m always going to remember the good times, the things that made me fall in love with him. But I’m not madly in love with him anymore, no.”

There was more, but he would’ve had to have gotten her much drunker to have heard that.

Instead, Harry was left only wondering what it was that had Taylor continuing to reach for his hand. They weren’t going to lose each other; they were never going to lose each other. Nothing was to come between these two.

In a department store, they browsed through racks of designer clothing that sparked futile lusting, their hope hanging onto more practical price tags in outlet sales. Harry struggled to walk away from a rag & bone bomber jacket – if he didn’t have rent to pay, that satin number would be his. Even Taylor said it would suit him well, and he had to turn down her suggestion of trying it on. If he did, he wouldn’t want to take it back off, and he didn’t think trying to run out with it would have a happy ending.

“Where did you get this one?” Taylor asked him curiously, thumbing the collar of the coat he had on.

“Burberry,” Harry replied with a small smile. “I saved up for it when I was in London.”

“You know, when I first bought something designer here, it was such a rush,” Taylor began to tell him, fingers trailing over fabric absently as they (reluctantly) kept walking between luxury racks. “Everyone here is so well dressed it’s like, you _have_ to try. So I was like, okay, I’ll pick something I really like, and I’ll work for it. I could’ve bought a hundred other things with the amount it cost, but it felt so _good_ walking into Alexander Wang and buying that dress. Like, it was just a dress, but it was a _really nice dress._ I got _compliments_ in that dress. I’ve never really cared about labels or any of that – you know how pretentious some people can be – but it was just like… it was cool, y’know? I felt like I could fit in here.” She paused, shaking her head. “That probably doesn’t make sense.”

“No, I get you,” Harry quickly reassured her. “Wearing something you really like can give you more confidence.”

“And when the streets are practically a runway, why wouldn’t you want to dress up? It’s fun,” Taylor smiled. “I love that you get it. You dress _really_ well; you’re like, one of the only guys I would trust to buy me something I _actually_ like.”

“Is that so?”

“Picture just a plain tight dress,” she said with a wave of her hands, as if to open his imagination. “The kind a girl would wear on a date or to a club or a party or something like that. What colour would you get her?”

Harry considered it for a moment before answering. “Well, my first thought is black. Black looks good on anyone; it’s the safest choice. But if I knew she liked colour and she was happy in it, I’d pick a colour I’d already seen her in so I knew for sure she liked it. Red would be a good one for a date.”

Taylor kept looking at him, pausing for effect. “I had a guy buy me one in orange.”

 _“Orange?”_ Harry couldn’t hide his laugh, and Taylor was grinning too. “Why orange?”

“I don’t know! I had this, like, burnt orange skirt at the time, but this was proper orange, like the fruit. It was really low cut, too, and he wanted me to wear it to dinner with his family.”

“You wore it, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t say no! I felt like I was pulling up that dress the entire time. I swear his little brother kept staring at my chest, too. It was awful.”

“Do you still have it?”

“I donated it after we broke up. As much as it didn’t suit my taste, I had some pretty great sex that night thanks to that dress; I hope whoever wore it next got lucky, too.”

Harry’s eyes widened and his laugh was loud. “You are _full_ of surprises, Taylor.”

“I know,” she agreed with a sparkle in her eyes, her hand finding his again. “C’mon, I wanna test my theory.”

Excitedly she guided him along to the women’s section, where she gave him free reign to pick at least one thing he would buy her in a hypothetical situation. It was a tough choice: Harry didn’t want to mess it up when she seemed positive that he could choose correctly. As she waited patiently for him by a mannequin wearing a silver two piece he could definitely see her in, he wandered between different designer areas, hunting for the thing that most screamed Taylor.

He loved it as soon as he saw it. Ever the sucker for a good print, Harry found another bomber jacket he wouldn’t mind wearing himself, a black one with red roses embroidered on the front and a large cluster decorating the back. It was trendy and practical, and it would suit her, too. He picked out Taylor’s size, which he knew from paying such close attention to her all this time, and he swiped something else on his way back as well. He wasn’t 100% convinced it was something she would choose for herself, but he knew he wasn’t wrong in thinking that the black satin slip dress with a long slit up either thigh would look to die for on Taylor’s slim body. It was sexy, maybe a little too much for her liking, but he gave it a go anyway.

“How’d you do?” Taylor gave a bubbly greeting as he returned to her. Harry held up each item by their coat hangers, watching carefully to gauge her reaction. She didn’t say anything, which was killing him and must’ve shown in his expression since she laughed when she met his gaze again.

“Well?” he asked impatiently.

“I love the jacket,” she finally revealed. “It’s gorgeous. Definitely something you would pick and totally something I’d like to wear. The dress…” She paused and he wished he hadn’t chosen it. “I assume it’s a date dress, and I assume that we’d be going somewhere fancy, and that we probably wouldn’t make it back home before we had sex. If we were dating, obviously.”

Harry didn’t know what to make of that, other than he _really_ wanted to be dating her. Taylor looked a bit like she regretted saying it, too, though she perked back up as she said, “Wanna see me try them on?”

He nodded, because of course he did, and as they weaved around trying to locate the dressing rooms, Taylor got distracted as they passed the lingerie section. A pretty bralette on a mannequin was what got her attention, and she stopped to look at the new range displayed right at the front of the section, destined to grab attention. Taylor chewed her lip over the lace garments, each delicate and comfortable and didn’t require a ton of padding to be sexy. It was the kind of lingerie Harry could picture her favouring, and as she lightly touched one of the black bras he thought he might be right.

“Try it on,” he encouraged – for her, not for him.

“I don’t know,” she said warily, flicking the tag over to check the price. “It’s kind of a lot of money for something only I’m going to see.”

Harry leaned closer to read the tag, brow furrowing. “That costs $85?!” he asked, horrified. There was hardly anything to it.

“I’d want to get the matching set, too,” she sighed. The panties were only $35 – _only._

“Christ.” Harry shook his head, perplexed as to why something so simple would cost that much. “Well, if you try it on and you really like it, dinner’s on me for the next week.”

Taylor glanced at him with fond curiosity. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he offered genuinely. “I mean, you deserve to treat yourself. This stuff isn’t supposed to be just for guys to look at, right? I don’t see why you can’t get something nice for yourself. I don’t want you to starve because of it, though.”

Suddenly she was hugging him, clothes crumpling between them, and some people looked at them funny but neither of them noticed, nor would they care if they did.

“You’re too good to me,” she said, as if there really were such a thing. “One day I wanna thank your mom for raising you right.”

“She’d love to meet you, like, in person,” he told her honestly. “Just maybe don’t mention the underwear.”

Laughing, Taylor agreed. “I won’t. I don’t think _my_ mom would want to know, either. Or my dad. Dad has enough trouble accepting all your tattoos, he doesn’t need to know those kinds of things about us too.”

That made it sound like there was something more between them, something deeper than friendship. Her father would be appalled to hear half the things Harry had thought about her, though he hoped, he _really_ hoped, that he would think he was the kind of man worthy of being with his daughter, regardless of whether anything ever happened between them or not.

Harry was allowed to wait outside of the changing cubicle Taylor entered, though he could tell the fitting room attendant was suspicious of him. He didn’t really blame them – the store was tight on security, but really, did they _look_ like a couple of thieves? They didn’t look like the kind who would hook up in such a public place, either.

It only took Taylor about a minute to take off her dress and slip into the jacket he had chosen for her. It looked nice on her, though Harry was a little distracted by the fact she was standing there in the privacy of the cubicle with the door open for him in nothing but the jacket zipped up and the stockings she had been wearing under her dress.

“It’s really comfortable,” she commented, either not noticing his eyes sliding down her legs or choosing to ignore it. “Does it look okay?”

“It looks great,” he easily replied. “It would be good with a black skirt or some jeans, I think.”

“I think you’re right,” she said, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror to her right. She contemplated herself for a moment, giving him a quick smile before she closed the door again.

When she opened it next, Harry gave a sharp intake of breath. He’d been trying to prepare himself while he was waiting for her to change, but there wasn’t much he could say to himself that would make seeing Taylor in that slinky slip dress any less astounding.

“I feel kind of… audacious,” she thought aloud, shifting a little uncomfortably on her feet. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can pull off this kind of sexy.”

Turning back to the mirror, Taylor analysed the way the fabric fell over her frame. Harry didn’t know where to look. He could see all the way up her thigh, the slit not quite reaching her underwear line. She had taken off her bra for it so the straps wouldn’t be in the way, and he could see the nice curve of her breasts underneath the material. It was the kind of dress that, yes, if they were out on a date, he would be riding up to fuck her in most inappropriate of places.

The attendant wasn’t so wrong to be cautious of him after all.

“What do you think?” Taylor asked, pulling him from his filthy thoughts as she twisted back to him. She took off her glasses, like they were taking away from the appeal.

“I think…” Harry trailed off, tilting his head up as he leaned back against the wall behind him. “I think I can’t say what I’m thinking.”

Taylor looked at him pointedly. “That’s not a proper answer. If I look ridiculous, you can tell me. I can take it.”

“You don’t, that’s the problem,” he said, and when he looked back at her properly to see her looking confused, he dared to break the short distance between them. He stepped towards her, stopping right at the door to the cubicle, lowering his voice so those in neighbouring booths couldn’t so easily overhear. “You look brilliant, alright? You’ve got these amazing long legs; they look perfect in a dress like that. You’re really fucking attractive, Taylor. Don’t doubt yourself.”

He stopped himself from saying anything more that would push their boundaries too far. If she didn’t glance down shyly, she would probably see it in his lustful eyes, anyway.

“I’ve never been the sexy one,” she murmured.

“I think you’re your own kind of sexy,” he believed, stepping back and giving her space to think about what he’d said.

Soon shutting the door again, Taylor took a couple more minutes, trying on the lingerie set for only her eyes to see and sliding back into her own dress. She re-emerged with a small smile, leaving both of the items she had tried on for fun on the outgoing rack by the attendant. She was going to treat herself like she deserved.

They filled another hour or so with more wandering around the city. Neither of them bought anything more material, though Harry did spy a new pair of Nikes he quite liked and might go back for another day. It was an enjoyable afternoon – just being with Taylor in any way brought him happiness. They hit a donut store before heading for the subway, and Harry thanked her for the time together with a fresh donut with chocolate icing topped with cookie pieces. She told him it was unnecessary, but she was grateful for his generous (and delicious) insistence.

When they eventually made it to her car, back near their part of town, Taylor plugged her phone into the sound system and pressed play on her music. They heard the end few notes of a Carrie Underwood song before it shuffled to the next track, and as the sound of Shawn Mendes filled the car, Harry thought the same thing he always did whenever he heard this song on the radio: he could treat Taylor better than Sam ever could.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Are you sure you aren’t going about this the wrong way?”

Harry rested his head back against the shared wall, groaning. He’d thought it, sure, but hearing someone else suggest it was different. It sounded like maybe it was right.

“I can’t tell her. If I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same, it’ll change everything.”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

“I think I’d rather not know than be turned down.”

Sitting comfortably on his bed with his laptop, Harry was spending his Sunday night Skyping with Louis. His last few video chats had mostly been with Ed, plus his regular sessions with his mum. It was nice to be able to properly catch up again.

“What happened to the ladies’ man we used to know?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Do you think it might be something to do with Jac–”

“It’s got nothing to do with her,” Harry cut in hastily. “Taylor’s nothing like her.”

“Okay,” Louis said, and Harry could tell that there was more he wanted to say. He was glad he didn’t try to speak more of the thing Harry never liked to talk about.

“The singing thing’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” Harry looked for an answer, shifting the topic. “Ed said it’s not something he would do. Niall said he would, though.”

“Have you asked Zayn? Zayn teaches all that romantic shit. _Hey, Zayn!_ ”

It took a few moments, but Zayn soon appeared in the frame, plopped down on the couch beside Louis in their flat. Louis summed up Harry’s situation and Zayn nodded at the right parts, rubbing his eye with his fist once. He looked tired, probably from marking too many essays.

“It could work,” he eventually decided. “Yeah. She’s a romantic?”

Harry nodded.

“Why not write her something yourself? Might be easier getting your feelings out that way, and she’ll appreciate the sentiment.”

The mere thought twisted his stomach with nerves. Harry did not believe he was that good. He didn’t know how to write a song, and he wasn’t about to write a shit song and show it to a creative who had _studied_ writing, for god’s sake. He was not going to completely bare his heart with his own words to someone who might not even like him back. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself like that. He couldn’t bare the potential fallout.

“Maybe,” he sighed, non-committed. “I can’t wait to come home, you know?”

While he was feeling much more comfortable in New York, he’d been counting down the weeks until he was heading back home ever since he had booked the flights ages ago. There was a bit over a month left: he was leaving on the fifteenth and arriving back on the thirty-first, giving him two weeks with his family and friends before returning just in time to spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square with Taylor, like she promised him they would.

Last Christmas had been shit. Harry hadn’t even been in New York for a month, still unadjusted and lost. It was his first Christmas on his own, having always travelled back from London while he was studying, and he hadn’t been ready for that kind of loneliness. He’d Skyped with his family, but that had only seemed to bring on more homesickness. They were enjoying themselves without him, while he was alone and upset and he just _really_ wanted to be able to get a hug from his mum to make it better. From then, he’d promised himself that he would make sure he had the money to go home next holidays. He’d set some aside from every pay check until England was back safely in his sights.

The lads were all keen to see him again, too. They caught up when they could, but having the whole gang back together was going to be brilliant. Louis already had some wild ideas in mind for how they could celebrate both being back together _and_ his birthday (mostly his birthday).

He was relaying some of them now, and Zayn had gotten a glass of wine, and Harry was feeling much better contemplating the future that was more certain than anything romantic was.

“Do you guys want me to bring anything back for you?” he offered, as early as it was. “Your sisters want anything?”

“Fucking hell, don’t tell Lottie you’re offering. She’ll write you a list,” Louis scoffed. “Some snow globes would be nice, though – the twins would like that, especially the little ones. Have you had any snow there yet?”

“Not yet, no. Should be soon though, I think.” Harry glanced toward the window, senseless with the blinds closed. “How about you?”

“Just rain,” Zayn replied.

“Been pissing it down lately,” Louis affirmed. “Half my kids are coming in soaked. Glad I’m not the one having to clean my classroom.”

Both Louis and Zayn were filled with interesting stories about the students at their school. It was always fun listening to them talk about their work; they were clearly enjoying the perks of being teachers, including overseeing all the student gossip and drama. They even perpetuated it on occasion: more than once, Louis had mercilessly forced teens with crushes or feuds into drama exercises together. Zayn was still cruising on his hot English teacher high.

Taylor would join them in that world eventually, but Harry was trying not to think of her now the conversation had moved on.

The time difference had them saying goodbye earlier than Harry would’ve really liked. It left him with the usual empty kind of feeling he got inside whenever he video chatted with someone from home. Mixed in with the doubt about Taylor that he had been drowning himself in all day, it wasn’t a particularly nice combination.

He distracted himself with some Netflix for a while before turning in for the night. As he lay in bed, he knew he was going to do something. Something big. Something grand. Something that would make her proud. Something that would, hopefully, change things for the better.

Even if he didn’t get the girl, he might just find what he had been looking for for a long time.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Harry’s already wavering confidence was tipped off balance when he found out Taylor had a date. A date. With a guy. A guy who wasn’t him.

The encounter had happened on Tuesday at a café on campus, where Taylor had been getting a coffee before class and had been approached by a guy she didn’t recognise. He had hit on her and asked her out for dinner sometime, and Taylor, thinking he was cute, had said yes on a whim.

She had seemed so excited when she told Harry about it later that day, too. It had been so long since she had been on a date with someone new, so it wasn’t all that surprising.

“He asked me if I was a model – can you believe that?” she had said in wonder. Yes, Harry could believe that. He had thought the same damn thing the first time _he_ laid eyes on her. He didn’t think it was that good of a pick-up line.

But he wasn’t going to be the one to down her mood, so he had listened with as much enthusiasm as he could muster up and given her his best wishes. What were the chances of this one date leading on to something more? People went on only a couple dates all the time. It was perfectly normal. Nothing to be jealous about.

Except that he was. Harry was ridiculously jealous, driving himself crazy wondering whether or not she would still be going on this date had he worked up the nerve to tell her how he felt about her like he had been telling himself he would. That could be him spending Friday night with a dolled-up Taylor, but instead he was sulking in his flat, listening to the sound of rain hitting the windows.

Funny how the weather could so fittingly represent a state of mind.

It wasn’t all bad, though. It was a reasonable indicator that Taylor was ready to move on, which was very nice to know. Her Snapchat was also quite the signal: only a few hours ago, she had taken to her phone with a savage update to her story, a video of her lip-syncing the chorus of Little Mix’s ‘Shout Out to My Ex’ that was _definitely_ going to be viewed by her ex. It had kind of surprised Harry, actually, though it was mostly amusing. Suck shit, Sam.

Harry put little effort into his night, having picked up a pizza from the closest store and carried it home under his umbrella. He’d changed into something dry and more comfortable when he finally made it indoors, and he filled a few calm hours with eating and watching telly. It was far from being his most exciting Friday night, but it could’ve been worse. He was spending tomorrow night out at a gig, anyway.

Things got interesting when his phone started buzzing on the coffee table. Not just another flash of light from a message – he was getting a call at just going on half past ten. He instantly perked up when he saw who it was.

“Harry, oh my god,” came Taylor’s voice as soon as he answered the call. It sounded like she was driving with her phone on speaker.

“How did your date go?” he asked, both out of curiosity and graciousness.

“Please please _please_ say you’re not doing anything right now.”

“That well, huh?”

Taylor laughed, and he was smiling too. “Want to come for a drive with me? We can get ice cream or something.”

“S’pose I could make myself look presentable for that.”

“Put some pants on and hang out with me, Styles,” she ordered, a grin in her voice. “I’ll pick you up in, like, fifteen minutes? I’m not too far away. Oh – would you mind bringing a spare jacket along that I could borrow? It wasn’t raining when I left and I forgot to put one in my car just in case.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see you soon, love.”

As soon as they disconnected, Harry’s mind whirred with what could’ve possibly gone down between Taylor and this mystery man. It obviously wasn’t all that fantastic if she was calling him – or maybe it had been and she just wanted someone to talk to about it. He felt a little guilty for hoping it was the former.

He didn’t bother dressing up much: he changed back into his jeans that had dried from earlier and kept his old jumper on, slipping into a pair of trainers. He grabbed a zip up hoodie for Taylor and bundled it up in his arms, hugging it to his chest when he went down to wait at the bottom of the stairwell. The rain didn’t seem to be easing soon; it was cold just waiting in the hall.

Taylor arrived on time, pulling up to idle in front of their building. She sent him a quick text, and he flicked up the hood on his own jumper before venturing outside, rain speckling on his face as he hurried over to her car.

“You look like a hug,” she marvelled as he climbed into the passenger side. “Gimme a hug.”

Grinning, Harry leaned across and hugged her as best as he could with her seatbelt restricting her. The sweet smell of her perfume filled his nose and the familiarity relaxed him immediately.

“I got this for you,” he let her know, holding up the jacket he had brought for her as he settled in the seat. “Hope it’s okay.”

“Thank you,” she smiled gratefully. With her arms bare thanks to the short sleeves on her dress, no wonder she had asked him to bring something along. She must’ve been freezing outside, though she was goose bump-free thanks to the toasty heating in her car.

“So how was your date?” he asked her again, trying not to laugh as she scrunched up her face.

“My mouth is having the worst flashbacks.”

“Jesus.”

“Not like _that_ ,” she laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. “He was the worst kisser. The _worst_.”

That was news Harry certainly wasn’t disappointed to hear.

“How so?” he wondered.

“Think of kissing someone,” she began to paint a picture. “Then think of them putting their tongue in your mouth, as well as an unbelievable amount of saliva. Like, all of the saliva they might produce in one day, all at once. In your mouth. Like they’re giving you a saliva bath. A disgusting saliva bath you never asked for.”

That _did_ sound revolting – Taylor looked pained as she leaned her head back against the headrest.

“He was so cute, why did he have to kiss like a saliva tsunami?” she groaned, gripping at the steering wheel, the silver ring on her finger sparkling in the light of the nearby street lamp. “I thought things were going okay until we kissed. Stop laughing at me.”

“’m not laughing,” Harry said, though while he might not have been laughing outright, it was definitely there in his voice, amusement written all over his face. Taylor called him out on it with a simple look, and he gave a guilty shrug. “If _I_ said ‘saliva tsunami’, you’d be laughing, too.”

A smile crept up on her lips, as much as she was trying not to let it. “You’re right,” she admitted, starting to laugh herself. “God, it was so _gross._ Quite possibly the worst kiss I’ve ever had.”

“Do you want some chewing gum, maybe?”

“Oh my gosh, yes, please,” Taylor eagerly accepted, and Harry pulled a stick out of his wallet for her. He always kept a couple in there just in case he felt like one on the go. “Do you want to actually go get some ice cream? I know it’s raining and all, but I could still go for some.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They headed off for a McDonald’s to get their cheap ice cream fix, Taylor telling him more about her night as they drove. Her date, Matthew, had taken her out for dinner and a movie – a classic choice. Both had been enjoyable, with casual conversation through dinner that had them connecting. The movie had been a comedy which wasn’t incredibly funny, but was decent enough. It was after the movie that things had gone south, with Matthew giving her a washing machine-style kiss at her car and seeming to expect more.

“Did he really think I was just going to invite him into the backseat and let him between my legs?” Taylor said, incredulous. “Do I look like I’d do that?”

“No,” Harry assured her. “But if you properly knew him and trusted him, I think you would.”

Eyes widening, Taylor flashed him a quick glance, not wanting to look away from the road for too long. “What makes you say that?”

“Um,” he laughed. “I don’t mean on the first date, but, like, you know.”

“ _I_ know, but how do _you_ know?”

“Are you joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

She rolled them to a stop in an almost empty parking lot, the nightlife not bustling in this part of town. Switching off the engine, she un-buckled and twisted in her seat to face him.

“Harry.”

“Do you honestly have no idea?”

“No!”

It seemed crazy to think she had no clue as to what he was getting at, although, in a way, it made sense. If she had known, maybe she would’ve been a little more… considerate.

Harry pondered his words a moment, choosing carefully. “You’re not quiet, you know?”

Then he saw it: the exact moment it dawned on her that her private life wasn’t as private as she had believed. Taylor’s face flickered with different emotions – embarrassment, mostly. Even in the darkness, he could see her cheeks flush, and as she shifted back in her seat and leaned her head forward against the steering wheel so she didn’t have to look at him, he was reminded of why he had never said anything about it at the time.

“It’s not a big deal,” he told her when she started hitting her forehead against the wheel, expressing her humiliation.

“Not a big deal?!” she cried, pausing but not yet looking back at him. “It’s not a big deal for you to _know_ about me having sex, but you actually _hearing it_ is a whole other thing! Why did you never tell me? We would’ve stopped.”

“I guess I just didn’t want to ruin your fun,” he shrugged.

Taylor turned her head to him then, looking unusually reserved. “I’m really sorry. It didn’t even occur to me that we would be disturbing you.”

“It’s fine, honestly. It’s not like I sat and listened,” he said, making Taylor laugh despite herself.

“Well that’s good to know,” she started smiling. “I really am sorry, though. I hate to think what you must think of me.”

Harry chuckled to himself, remembering back to before they had met. She really would hate to know what he had thought back then, and it must’ve shown in his expression as she looked at him quizzically.

“You don’t want to know,” was all he told her, and he got out of the car before she could press him for details.

Still raining, Harry ducked his head as he scurried across to the fast food store. Behind him, Taylor was only just getting out of the car, squealing as soon as she stepped out. She sprung across, looking awkward on her long legs that were covered in a pair of thick stockings to keep her warm. The heels she had been wearing earlier in the evening had been replaced with plain flats, and she jumped between either foot when she reached him undercover.

“There’s a massive puddle on my side,” she whined, water soaking the feet of her stockings. Now zipped up in the jacket he had brought for her, she looked so soft, and Harry pulled her into proper hug, holding her body close to his. She held onto him gladly, sighing. “Today’s not my day, is it?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said, moving his hand over the small of her back.

“That was really cheesy.”

“That was the point.”

Taylor pulled back, smiling at him warmly. She touched his face fondly, making his stomach flip at the token of affection. “You’re so sweet,” she admired. It was another one of those moments where he thought they might kiss. (Outside of a McDonald’s wasn’t exactly romantic, was it?)

Inside, it was quiet, with only one person taking up a table, reading a newspaper with a half-eaten box of nuggets and a Coke sitting in arm’s reach. The staff looked bored, the girl at the counter not bothering to feign a smile when she served them. She was in no rush to make their sundaes, carefully swirling soft serve into two clear cups and drizzling both with a neat helping of chocolate sauce. What she lacked in speed, she made up for in generosity.

They weren’t in any rush either, and they decided to sit over at a table at the back while they ate their late night treat. They chose a spot by the window, letting them watch the rain hit the glass and make squiggly trails downwards. On rainy car rides, Harry had always liked to follow certain droplets, pretending it was a race to the bottom of the window. It was a silly game he still sometimes found himself playing.

Now, though, he had something far more interesting to focus on. Sitting across from him, Taylor was dipping her spoon into her sundae, scooping off the pointed peak of soft serve. Her red lipstick looked immaculate, like she hadn’t been kissing anyone at all. He had seen her reapply it enough times before to know that the stick was tucked safely inside the black clutch she had put on the table, included as an essential item for a night out.

“I’ve gotta tell you something,” she said once she slid the spoon out of her mouth. “I want to redeem myself for this past year.”

“’s okay, Tay,” he replied breezily, taking his own first cold mouthful of ice cream.

“I really don’t think it is,” she continued to insist. “It might not be a big deal to _you,_ but it bothers _me._ Aren’t you even a little curious about what I wanna say?”

“Well, _yeah,_ ” Harry smiled honestly. “But I’d rather you told me because you want to, not ‘cause you feel like you _have_ to.”

Taylor tilted her head, holding his gaze. She might not have had the exact night she had been hoping for, but she didn’t look particularly disappointed. There was a liveliness lighting her eyes as she stared at him.

“I was faking it,” she revealed, the airing of the secret bringing a conspiratorial little smile to her lips. “Not all of it. Most of it. So whatever you heard… I’m really sorry. I wish I had a better story.”

“Actually,” Harry licked his lips, dimple appearing in the left side of his own smile, “this is a far more intriguing story. Why were you faking it?”

“Why would any girl fake it?” she countered obviously. “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Guys are so fragile about their masculinity.”

“Definitely,” he nodded sarcastically, and Taylor rolled her eyes. If he was showing any sign of already having an idea about what she was opening up to him about, she didn’t seem to notice.

“Anyway, _he_ was the one who was really into all that loud stuff. I just kind of went along with it,” she explained, spooning another mouthful of ice cream. “It was fun being this kind of… amplified version of myself.”

Taylor giggled a little, probably recalling a memory. Harry kept watching her as her gaze dropped down, curious. He was unexpectedly getting answers he never thought he would have, and selfishly he wondered how much he could learn.

“Did he know?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think he thought he was doing a phenomenal job. I _know_ he thought that.” A small smirk slowly teasing her lips, she went on, “You know… it was really shit what he did, but it’s kind of funny that he hooked up with some other girl when he’s not even that good. It wouldn’t surprise me if she faked it, too. _That’s_ what makes me feel better about the whole thing.”

At least there was something she was able to find some comfort in.

“Do you mind if I ask, like, why?” he said. “Why pretend when you could tell him what you really like and have a better time?”

“Well, I tried to teach him–”

“ _Teach_ him?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Everyone does it. I can guarantee at least one girl has taken your hand and guided you into giving her what she prefers.”

He didn’t have to think too hard about that one. Considering that sort of thing as teaching, though, was something he had never done. Did that mean _he_ wasn’t as good as he thought he was, either?

Brow furrowed, Harry dipped into his sundae.

“Making him happy made me happy,” Taylor simply stated, continuing through his contemplation. “It would’ve been nicer if he could’ve gotten me there more than he did, but, like, it doesn’t have to always be about that, you know?”

“That sounds like something someone who hasn’t had enough orgasms would say to make themselves feel better about it.”

Taylor kicked him hard in the shin, the man with the newspaper glancing their way when they erupted into a fit of giggles. Understandably, they were keeping their voices down, but their laughter was uncontained, bringing life to the joint.

“Sorry I’m not a man who can get it over with in five seconds,” she grinned, her teasing making him laugh harder.

“ _Five seconds?_ I’m offended.”

“As you should be.”

Watching as Taylor licked more ice cream off her spoon, Harry shook his head. “You can be so _cruel,_ Taylor. No one would ever pick it.”

“Said by a man who clearly has never slept with me, because he would already _know_ that.”

Taylor wiggled her eyebrows at him, more comical than it was suggestive. It had him laughing again; the time he’d spent moping in his flat seemed miles away.

“You know, I did see this article about how cat owners are more likely to be into kinky shit than everyone else.”

“How does that even make any sense? That can’t be a real study.”

“I think you’re pretending not to agree with it to hide the fact that it’s true,” he teased. “You’re actually looking for someone who will tie you down and choke you.”

The only choking she did was on her sundae as the words left his mouth. It made Harry feel a little bad, actually, as she coughed for a moment or so, her eyes watering as she leaned forward on her elbows when she settled.

“Now you’ve made me choke, are you going to tie me down?” Taylor quipped, smirking as his eyes widened in surprise. “You know, Sam was always threatened by you. No matter how many times I told him we were just friends, he always thought there was something more between us, like if he came over unannounced he would find us in bed together. I don’t see why people don’t think guys and girls can be friends without it being all complicated.”

Because, at some point, emotions inevitably get involved, and it _does_ get complicated. Someone is left hopelessly pining for the other, or worse – you get together and it falls apart and you’re both left without a lover or a friend. The latter was what Harry was terrified of. Telling Taylor how he truly felt could be the best thing he ever did or his greatest mistake. He would rather stay as they were than lose her altogether.

A part of him was tempted to blurt it all out right there, right then, but his fear had a habit of getting in the way.

“I’m not really surprised he wanted to keep you all to himself,” Harry said instead, careful to keep it casual. “You seem like you’d make a fantastic girlfriend; I’d probably feel the same as he did if I had someone like you.”

His meticulous choice of words paid off. Taylor didn’t look at him like he’d completely lost his mind, but rather she examined him inquisitively. “Is there anyone you’re interested in?” she asked him. “You’ve never really talked about that kind of stuff before.”

With good reason.

“’m not really…” he mumbled, now struggling to find the right thing to say. “’s not really a big deal to me, I guess.”

He shrugged, and Taylor was smart enough to pick up on his sudden drop in eye contact.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, I was just wondering,” she said, quickly making sure he knew that she hadn’t intended on making him feel uncomfortable. “I thought there was maybe someone? If there is and you just don’t want to talk about it, I completely understand. Forget I even asked.”

It wasn’t that easy though, was it? Harry fiddled with his spoon for a moment before he worked up the nerve to at least tell her _something_ about that part of his life.

“The last girl I was with, like, in a relationship, it didn’t…” He gave a small sigh. “We were at uni and it just didn’t work out, I guess. I haven’t had anything like that since.”

Maybe she saw a familiar remnant of hurt flicker in his eyes, as she reached her hand across the table to rest atop his. “Never let one wrong person stop you from loving the right one,” Taylor guided, sounding so greatly profound that Harry stared into her blue eyes with such reverence that it seemed impossible that she didn’t know how deeply he felt for her.

“You’re young,” she went on, “you deserve to have fun. It doesn’t have to be something that lasts forever. But don’t hold back, y’know?”

Harry gave a little nod. “Same to you.”

“Do you like, um, casual stuff?” she asked him, biting down on her lower lip lightly.

“Yeah,” he answered slowly, sure that she wasn’t suggesting what he immediately thought she was. “I’m into that.”

“Well, when was the last time you did something like that?”

“Um.” He felt his face heat, though it wasn’t because he was shy of telling her that sort of thing. “A couple days ago.”

Her hand moving back to her side of the table, Taylor’s eyes grew wider. “Do you think you’ll see her again?”

“Yeah, um, all the time, actually,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “It was Mallory.”

Staring down at the table so he didn’t have to look in Taylor’s eyes that were only getting bigger, Harry felt the tug of guilt he had been feeling ever since it had happened.

They had had Mallory’s dream photo shoot with Harry in front of the camera on Tuesday, and it had actually been pretty fun. Honestly, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as he did. It was interesting having that kind of attention on him, definitely something he wasn’t used to. The shots that came out of it had turned out pretty cool too, if he did say so himself. In a way, it was kind of embarrassing, but he was keen to see what people thought when it eventually went to print. His mum loved it already.

They’d all hung out after the shoot, having some drinks together to celebrate the good day’s work. For a weeknight, they probably shouldn’t have had quite as much – they _definitely_ shouldn’t have. When Harry and Mallory had ended up alone at the end of the night, some compliments had turned to flirting, flirting had turned to kissing, and kissing had turned into an impulsive hook up that should never have happened.

He’d really liked it, though – they both had. There had always been a little something between them ever since they met, and acting on it had been exciting. Mallory, while a little older than him, was so much smaller than he was; he’d been afraid of crushing her when he laid on top of her. It had all been so natural, though, and Harry felt a little bad every time he recalled what it was like to have her legs locked around his waist, what she sounded like when he touched her petite chest and when she came.

At work the next morning, the two had shared an unusually shy encounter with meaningful looks, and Jared had figured it out right away. Harry had made him promise not to tell anyone – neither of them could afford what could happen if Liza found out.

“Do you like her in that way?” Taylor asked him tentatively.

“Not in like a relationship way,” Harry said.

“Does she know that?”

He nodded. A hushed conversation in the break room had cleared things up between them: they couldn’t do it again, it was a one-time thing, they didn’t want to risk repeatedly breaking the no dating rule for their attraction. It had been fun – really fucking fun – but that was it. They couldn’t keep it up, especially not when they both knew that Harry’s heart laid elsewhere.

“So you guys are on the same page?” she checked, and he nodded again. “Then it’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s just… I feel kind of shit, like I took advantage of her. I think it meant more to her than it did to me.”

“Well, that’s not unusual,” Taylor assured him. “But I know you, Harry – you’re not a bad person. You’re not someone who just takes what they want from people only to toss them aside once you’ve got it. Maybe it meant more to her, but if she’s okay with what happened and how things are going to be between you now, and you’re okay with it too, then it’s not as bad as you’re thinking it is, is it?”

Harry considered it, wondering why he hadn’t just come to her when it had first began bothering him. Taylor was smart, undeniably so, and she knew just what to say. Not only that, but she _meant_ it. They teased each other relentlessly, but when it came to more serious conversations like this, she didn’t bullshit him. She wasn’t judgemental, either. She was the perfect person to go to with any kind of problem.

“I guess it’s not,” he admitted, giving her a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You can always come to me, you know that, right?” she made sure, her gaze warm and welcoming. “I know it’s not always easy, but talking stuff through with someone else can really help. And if you ever just want a distraction, you know we can always go do something together. We could just get in my car and drive. We could go anywhere.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Harry said, smiling properly now.

“If only you didn’t have such a permanent job, we could spend next summer going on a road trip,” Taylor envisaged, her eyes gleaming at the idea. “We could drive out west, head to LA, pretend to be movie stars. Or we could go down south to Florida – it’s been, like, fifteen years since our family trip to Universal; it’d be cool to go back. Or we could go to Canada! It’s so beautiful there.”

“All of those sound perfect,” he grinned at her. “I could probably get some time off, if you’re serious.”

“I’m totally serious!” she eagerly replied. “Karlie and I went to California a few years ago and it was incredible. It was just the two of us and it was like this one crazy amazing adventure; I’ll never forget it. It’d be so much fun if we could do something like that together, too.”

“I’m in,” he easily agreed, having to put in only minimal thought over the suggestion. “I’d like to see more than just New York.”

Taylor raised her hand, her pinky extended towards him. “Let me be your tour guide.”

They linked their little fingers and the deal was made: next summer was _theirs_.

 

*** * * * ***

It had stopped raining by the time they left, having stayed inside long after their sundaes were nothing but leftover smears streaking the inside of their plastic cups. At the late hour, it hardly mattered that they took up a table for longer than they should’ve, something they routinely found themselves doing without meaning to.

It was unexpected how wildly their conversation changed that night, telling each other things they normally kept to themselves in a McDonald’s, of all places. Harry wondered if it was another step, another sign of their secured mutual trust, if it meant she was trying to tell him something grander in that roundabout way that girls often used. He was probably just imagining it.

On the ride home, Taylor nearly deafened him when Little Mix started playing through the speakers and she instantly cranked up the volume. It was impossible to be annoyed by it when she looked so _happy_ singing along loud and proud – if only Sam could see her now. She was on the way up and it didn’t look like he would be bringing her back down, that’s for sure.

When they walked up to their floor, they paused a moment outside Taylor’s door, lingering together. She still had his jacket zipped up keeping her warm and she didn’t show sign of taking it off, like she’d forgotten it wasn’t hers.

“Thanks for coming out with me,” she smiled at him. “You’ve made tonight end much better than it otherwise would’ve.”

“You made my night, too,” Harry returned genuinely.

“I think I’m just going to go have a shower and fall into bed,” she told him, gesturing towards her door with her hand that held her high heels she’d ditched, a polite way of saying goodbye. “See you again soon, though?”

“Yeah, text me, or just come by. I don’t mind.”

Taylor nodded and stepped into a hug, the action so natural between them. The surprise came when she kissed him on the cheek, slowly and close to his lips. His wonder came across in his expression, and when they pulled apart she gave him a small, secret smile.

“I want to go to bed knowing the last person I kissed was worth it.”

It took him a moment to get it, but a grin soon spread across his face. She remembered. She _remembered_.

They didn’t have anything stopping them this time, yet they once again missed their movie moment. They said their soft goodbyes and slipped away inside their separate apartments, hearts warm and full of admiration for the one next door.

Harry had a red lipstick stain left on his cheek and if he knew that he wasn’t the only one with a fluttering heart, maybe that wouldn’t be the only place he would have one.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Monday night. That was when he was going to do it. That was when he was going to show her that he had been listening all along.

Ever so kindly, Harry offered to make Taylor dinner while she worked on one of her assignments. He whipped out a vegetable stir fry, making extra so he would have some left over for a lunch. It turned out well, with Taylor complimenting his healthy and tasty choice of the night. He always enjoyed cooking for her – for anyone, really. It felt good doing something for someone else and be able to share the moment with them.

Understandably, Taylor wasn’t all that keen on returning to her studies once they finished up their food. She stayed put at the dining table while he cleared their dishes, leaving them in the sink to deal with later. He knew he should tell her to go get on with her work – his nerves were prodding him incessantly with hopes that she would leave before he could go through with his plan – but he _wanted_ her to stay. Even if she laid her books out on his table and didn’t say a word to him for hours, he would feel better just being in the same room as her. He always did.

Except for maybe today, where his stomach kept doing backflips at the thought of showing her that he had been listening to her all this time.

“I just really want to sleep,” Taylor thought aloud, propping her chin up in her hands as she watched him move across the room. “It’s only Monday and I want this week to be over already. Do you think anyone would notice if I took up hibernating?”

“ _I_ would,” Harry smiled over at her, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “And I think you’d get bored staying inside for months.”

“As long as I could write, I think I would be okay. Maybe if I locked myself inside for a few months, I would actually get something finished.”

“You’re going to finish your book, love.”

“I don’t have the _time_ , not with all these assignments. Exams are soon, too, and I already feel underprepared.”

“Just take it one step at a time. You’ll get it all figured out.”

“I’d rather just sleep.”

Crossing back over to her, Harry held his hand out to her and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. “There’s something I want to show you,” he told her. If he didn’t do it now, he would just keep putting it off. And if he couldn’t show _her_ , how could he ever expect to show anyone else?

“Is it your bed?” Taylor said, pulling a face when it occurred to her what she’d just asked. “That sounded cleaner in my head.”

Chuckling, he gave her hand an affectionate little squeeze. “It’s something a little more exciting than that.”

“Oh, really? Well, coming from someone who thoroughly enjoys his naps, I’m intrigued.”

Taylor smiled at him as he guided her over to the couch, encouraging her to sit down while his heart beat hard in his chest.

“Close your eyes,” he requested, her laugh not doing his nerves any favours.

“Close my _eyes?_ ” she repeated. “What is this you’re showing me?”

“You’ll see.”

“Not with my eyes closed,” Taylor quipped. Still, she did as he asked while he went off into his bedroom. “Is it a cat?” she called out in speculation. “Did you get a cat? Did you get _me_ another cat? You know how I feel about ending up one of those crazy cat ladies. But if you did, I won’t say no.”

Harry just shook his head, smiling a little to himself. A cat would’ve been safer, that’s for sure. At least he knew how she would react to that.

With the incredible care he always took to be quiet, Harry reached under his bed for what he was after. It wasn’t really the place he wanted to store it, but after today, the secret would be out and it wouldn’t matter where he kept it anymore.

Manoeuvring back through the doorway, he paused for a moment, looking at the back of Taylor’s blonde head. He struggled to recall another time he had been this anxious. He was so desperate for her approval, he didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t respond with the enthusiasm that he hoped with all his heart that she would. In just a few minutes, she could break him, and the thought made him feel sick.

He needn’t worry so much. He’d plucked one mere string of the guitar he clutched in his hot hands when Taylor’s head whipped around, her eyes like saucers as they landed on him. Her jaw dropped and she _actually_ screamed her excitement, like he was famous already.

_“Harry! Oh my god!”_

A bashful smile worked its way onto his face, and he found the confidence to start playing the tune he had chosen to learn especially.

“Are you gonna play me something?! I can’t believe this!”

Taylor’s enthusiasm was electric. The butterflies in his stomach stopped throwing themselves so wildly around in panic, and when he managed to make his way over to the couch without losing concentration on his fingers, a miracle of sorts, Harry was back to smiling.

There were a million songs Harry could’ve decided to sing for her. The catalogue he had was extensive, far too many lyrics reminding him of her and everything he hoped they could be. It seemed like such an important choice to him: sure, Taylor had heard him sing a countless amount of times, but never like this. This was serious, meant so much more than listening to him through the wall or in the car. It felt personal.

He didn’t want to freak her out with a completely obvious sappy love song, but he was always going to play her something sweet. You didn’t serenade someone with anything less.

His inexperience actually worked in his favour: trying so hard to keep focus on how he was supposed to move his fingers, Harry wasn’t looking at Taylor as he played, taking some of the pressure off as he sang her a Hozier song. Once, Taylor had said his voice would be perfect to cover one of his, and he hadn’t forgotten it.

When Harry did briefly flick his eyes up to her, he found Taylor watching starry eyed, like she had never experienced anything more wondrous than him softly singing, _“Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. We should just kiss like real people do.”_

Honestly, he _was_ hoping for a kiss. He was hoping this would be enough for her to know how he really felt about her, that she would be able to read between the lines and see what he found so difficult to say outright. But by now, he should’ve known life had a funny way of working things out.

As soon as he finished, Taylor started clapping for him eagerly, her grin from ear to ear. “That was beautiful! So beautiful,” she gushed, and his cheeks tinged a touch of pink.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you got a guitar!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well I’m surprised!” she laughed. “How long have you been keeping this a secret?”

“Um, a couple of weeks? Ed’s been teaching me. Niall, too.”

Taylor’s eyes shone as she nodded. She adored Ed. Ever since Harry had shown her his music, she had a soft spot for him, unmistakably her favourite of his lot of mates.

“I just can’t believe you’ve managed to keep it a secret for this long,” she said, her bright smile never wavering. “I mean, I kind of had my suspicions – the couple of band-aids on your fingers recently, I had to do the same when I played – but you never said anything! I was sure if I was right, it would be something you would tell me. You’re so sneaky!”

Harry laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand until Taylor reached forward to hug him, as best as she could with the lightwood guitar between them.

“So does this mean you’re going to try getting into music now?” she asked when she sat back, and he shrugged despite his heart knowing the truth.

“I think I should practise more before I think about trying to get a record deal.”

“Your voice alone would be enough to get you one,” she said with such conviction he almost straight out believed her. “You could be like Justin Bieber: post videos online and the people will come to you.”

“I don’t think I really want to be like Justin Bieber.”

“What do you mean?” she tunefully replied, making them both giggle stupidly.

“Do you think,” he started slowly, licking his lips as he paused. “Do you think it could really work out? Like, would people really want to listen to me?”

“Of course! Harry, before we even met, I _thought_ you were a musician.”

“I don’t know if I’m really that good,” he mumbled, and suddenly she cupped his face with both of her hands and made him look her in the eyes.

“You _are_ that good,” Taylor promised him, her sincerity undeniable. “You need to work on your confidence, babe. Believe in yourself as much as I believe in you.”

Easier said than done. Harry might’ve had the confidence to up and move to a whole other continent, leaving everything he had ever known on the chance that he would find his calling in a new job in a new city, but this was different. Music was an unpredictable industry. He could lose success just as easily as he found it. No matter how hard he tried, it just might not be enough.

It was always easier to believe in someone else than in yourself, too.

“What else have you learnt so far?” she asked him curiously.

“Um,” he thought. “I can play ‘Wonderwall’.”

“Play ‘Wonderwall’!” Taylor giggled excitedly, pulling her hands from his face and clapping them together again.

So, once he recalled the right notes, Harry began playing the iconic Oasis song for her. He’d considered playing it for her first, actually. It was cheesy, but he _did_ believe that nobody else felt the same way as he did about her. There were many things he would like to say to her but he didn’t know how, too, that’s for damn sure. Maybe she would get it this time.

Except she didn’t. Harry had been sure that this would be it, that tonight would be their movie moment, the definitive turning point where their bond would change for the better and everything from then on would be sunshine and rainbows. In a movie, he wouldn’t have to spell out his emotions, she would just know, and they would kiss and the audience would happily sigh, because, well, _finally._

He should’ve just told her. He should’ve just blurted out right then that he liked her as more than a friend, instead of sitting there listening to her words of encouragement (as kind as they were). He should’ve, but of course, he didn’t. He never did.

“I’m so proud of you, you know?” Taylor beamed at him; surely her cheeks had to hurt by now from all the smiling she’d been doing. “You were always hesitant, but you gave it a go anyway. And you’re _good!_ Really good. I think you’re braver than you think you are.”

“Thank you,” Harry said for what felt like the millionth time.

“I don’t want to seem like I’m pressuring you, but I really do think you should give music a chance,” she encouraged once more. “I know you enjoy the job you’re at now, but I don’t think… There’s no harm in trying something else, y’know? You don’t know how great you can be until you try. And if it doesn’t work out, that’s okay. You’ll always have me as your biggest fan.”

Dimples creasing his cheeks, Harry lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “I think my mum’s already filled that spot.”

“Well then I’m top of the list of those not related to you,” Taylor laughed, which was true in so many ways he didn’t know where to begin.

Harry didn’t get his kiss that night, but he might’ve just set himself on a momentous new path.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Would you say you’re more attracted to people who are similar to you or those with traits opposing your own?”

Sitting far too comfortably on her couch together one night, Harry was helping Taylor with an assignment for her psych unit. She lay on her back with her laptop resting on her, her legs draped over his lap as he sat at the other end of the sofa. Her blue socks had a pineapple pattern on them and absently he stroked his hand over the top of her foot.

“Mostly similar, I think,” he answered without much deliberation; she’d requested he reply to her series of questions with the first thing that came to mind.

“How important is physical attraction to you in a relationship?”

“Fairly important?” he said in a higher tone, smiling sheepishly over at her. “Does that sound bad?”

Taylor thankfully shook her head. “People tend to want to initiate relationships with people they’re physically attracted to, don’t they?” she smiled back, glancing back at her laptop screen to fill in his answer. “How important is sexual activity to you in a relationship?”

“Now you’re _trying_ to make me sound bad,” Harry laughed, and she attempted not to giggle back. “It’s not the _most_ important, but it’s, like, a good aspect to explore… regularly, preferably.”

 _“‘Pretends that he doesn’t think about sex constantly,’”_ Taylor pretended to type, yelping when he cheekily tickled the underside of her foot. “I’m just making my professional psychological assessment!”

“You’re not a professional, you’re taking _one_ psych class,” he disagreed with a grin.

“How many psych classes have you done, huh?” she challenged, wiggling her toes. “I think I’m more qualified than you are.”

She had a point there, and he just chuckled. “Are we going to have to start calling you Dr Swift?”

“That does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Maybe I should become a guidance councillor.”

While Taylor mused yet another career path she could flourish in, Harry noticed his phone screen light up beside him. He was getting a call from an unknown number, which was strange at this hour. Without thinking too much about it, he pressed answer and held it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Harry.”

His heart stopped. He almost dropped his phone.

_“Jacqui?”_

Taylor stared at him as he shifted, curled her legs up off him so he could stand. He hurried over to the privacy of her bedroom, bewildered.

“Can we talk?” the painfully familiar voice on the other end of the phone line asked, and all Harry wanted to say was no, but he was too polite to tell her that.

“I guess so.”

“I heard you’re in New York now. I just got here, I’m on a holiday.”

How she knew that, he hadn’t a clue, and he didn’t really give a shit if she was here too. Out of the thousands of people in the city, there only was a fraction of a chance that he would ever bump into her.

“How long are you staying for?”

“A week. Is there anything you recommend I see while I’m here?”

_A plane back to London._

“The usual, I guess. Central Park, Empire State, Statue of Liberty. You could Google it.”

“I want to get a proper opinion from a New Yorker.”

“New Yorkers write blog posts.”

Meredith came wandering over from her spot in the corner and jumped up onto the bed, flopping herself down against Harry’s thigh. She made no complaint when he started petting her, like she knew he was after some kind of comfort.

“Are you busy this week?”

“I have work.”

“What about on the weekend?”

“I have plans.”

“I see you haven’t lost your dedication.”

Harry let the silence hang.

“Do you think you could make time to see me while I’m here?”

“Why?”

“Because we haven’t seen each other in years?”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Jesus Christ, Harry, I’m trying to be _nice_.”

“I’m busy, alright? I’m in the middle of helping out a friend right now, actually. I should get going. Have fun while you’re here.”

Hitting the end call button, Harry let out a breath of relief. He fell onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, Meredith only lifting her head briefly at his movement. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, waited for the uneasy feeling to leave his stomach.

When he hauled himself back up and left her room, Taylor was trying to look casual, though her inquiry of “Who was that?” wasn’t exactly subtle.

Harry set his phone down on the coffee table before returning to his spot on the sofa. “My ex-girlfriend,” he exhaled, staring forward.

Closing her Mac, Taylor sat up and set it aside, her interest piqued. “What did she want?”

Harry didn’t answer, and she shuffled closer to him, sliding her arm around his shoulder comfortingly. “Hey,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t know what he was. Sinking down a little further, he rested his head on her shoulder and found reassurance in having Taylor’s arms wrap around him, holding him close to her.

“I haven’t spoken to her since we broke up,” he mumbled against the fabric of her sweater. “I didn’t know she would even still have my number.”

“Do I have to call her back and tell her to leave you alone?” Taylor asked him, and something in her voice let him know that she would seriously do it if that was what he wanted. “I can be a bitch.”

He managed a small smile. “’s not necessary.”

“Are you sure? I can pretend to be your crazy new girlfriend and tell her to fuck off and not call again when I’m trying to hop on your dick.”

A loud laugh was suddenly drawn out of him in surprise, and as he pulled back from her he found Taylor smiling kindly at him. “Did you really just say that?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, gently brushing her hand over his cheek. “I just wanted to make you smile again. But I’ll actually do it, it you want. I’ll do anything for you.”

Warmth spread through him at her honest words, a much gentler feeling than the anxious confusion he felt only a minute ago. Taylor treated him so well, with so much tenderness and trust. She would never crush him the way that he had been before.

“You don’t even know the story,” Harry pointed out, which only seemed to be a testament to how much Taylor was a fierce protector of her friends. It didn’t matter the circumstances: she would always be there if she was needed.

“I get the feeling that she wasn’t the one who got hurt in the end,” Taylor predicted wisely. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes and no. Everything would likely make a whole lot more sense if he did, but at the same time, what had happened was something Harry liked to keep locked away in the recesses of his mind where it couldn’t upset him. It had been quite some time now, though. Maybe it wouldn’t be quite so shit to recount anymore. Maybe.

“Her name’s Jacquelyn,” he began slowly, testing the waters. “Everyone called her Jacqui, except her dad – he grew up in France and always said her name really nicely. _Jaquelyn_ , or _Jacquelyn Marie_. She sometimes liked to pretend she was, like, French-born, especially with strangers, even though she had such a strong British accent. She was always very adventurous. Confident, too. ‘s why I liked her.”

With her arm still caringly around his shoulders, Taylor had started gently playing with his hair, her fingers fiddling with his loose locks a little. “Is this the girl in the pictures with the red hair?”

Harry nodded. He had never shown her any photos of him and Jacqui together and said, _‘hey, this is my ex!’_ , but there was no escaping the tagged pictures on Facebook from when the two of them had been together. He knew Taylor had been through them – he had been creeping on hers months back and done the dreaded: accidentally hit like on one of her photos from four years ago. She had sent him a series of hilarious texts and later liked one of _his_ old pictures, which kind of made up for the embarrassment of being caught stalking her social media.

“She’s really pretty,” Taylor commented lightly, and he gave a nod.

“She never wore much make-up. I loved seeing her freckles all the time, they’re really cute,” Harry said, biting down a little on his lip. It had been so long since he’d thought about any of this. “She was, like, the most serious relationship I’ve been in.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she gently reminded him.

“I want to, I think.” The frown etched between his brows suggested otherwise. “’s just…”

“Hard?”

Turning his head to her, Harry’s eyes landed on hers and he gave a small nod. There was no questioning his level of trust with her. Looking into her deep, kind eyes, he felt like he could tell her anything and everything, good or bad.

“Take your time,” Taylor told him.

And so he started off slowly explaining what had happened the first semester of his final year at uni.

He had met Jacqui in the summer, right before classes started. He was at a pub with Niall one night when he saw her, all fiery red hair and tight jeans. She had introduced herself when she caught him looking, and they talked a little. He hadn’t even noticed her slip her number into the back pocket of his jeans until he got home later.

The first semester of their final year was spent exploring each other and their surrounds. Jacqui was studying archaeology, which explained both her wild curiosity and why their paths hadn’t crossed earlier. It was fun – a lot of fun. They understood each other, and being together was never a bore. Jacqui was the kind of person who thrived off adventure, and the two spent many a night going places they had never been, doing things they shouldn’t do.

It hadn’t taken Harry long to fall in love. He hadn’t felt like he had about Jacqui about anyone else before, and he had really believed she felt the same for him.

Towards the end of the semester, exams fast approaching, everyone was hitting the books. Harry wasn’t exactly having the best time, his assignments not delving far enough into his interests, but he still tried hard to do well. He didn’t want to throw it all away so close to the end.

Jacqui, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so enthused about studying. She went out a lot, with and without Harry, and still managed to pull off good grades. While it hadn’t bothered her at first his rejection of hanging out in favour of course work, the more Harry tried focusing on his degree, the more frustrated she had become.

Harry, though, had still been convinced things were fine.

The night everything went wrong was a stormy Saturday. There was a party they’d planned on attending, only Harry had withdrawn when he didn’t finish an assignment worth a hefty amount of his grade for one of his classes as early as he had hoped. Working on it with a hangover didn’t exactly scream a brilliant idea, so it had seemed perfectly acceptable to stay home that night. If only Jacqui thought that way – she snapped at him, asking why he never wanted to spend time with her anymore. They argued until she stormed out, not wanting to miss the fun for something so exasperating.

Harry was left unsettled, wondering whether it had really been worth opting to stay home. He almost went along, if for nothing but to apologise, and he would’ve had he not gotten a text from Zayn letting him know Jacqui was off her face. There was no point in trying to sort things out when she was like that.

While Harry tried to keep himself occupied, he missed out on one heck of a party. Everyone seemed to have a blast – especially Jacqui. Oh lord, did Jacqui have fun.

She had called him at some point in the night, and at first he thought she was drunk, only he later learnt it was worse than that. She had thrown him an earful of abuse, wicked words that he never deserved. Jacqui always did have a sharp tongue, though Harry wasn’t normally the one on the end of it. It was like she unleashed it on him all at once, each loaded sentence like a stab to the chest.

With most of it a horrid blur, there were a few things Harry could still pick out. An incoherent insult about how boring he’d gotten. An unfair accusation that he was using her for sex. An unnecessary comment on his tattoos. A cruel confession that she had only said ‘I love you’ because he had said it first. She didn’t love him. He was shit.

Understandably, Harry wasn’t in a good place when their call ended, and when he later found out Jacqui had ended up being carted off to the hospital after whatever pills she had taken hadn’t given her the fantastic high she had been craving, he had found it difficult to give a fuck. She had broken his heart, torched the pieces, and thrown the ashes in the deepest depths of the ocean in a matter of minutes; he really didn’t want to talk to her, let alone pity her self-inflicted misfortune.

She had tried to apologise, but she couldn’t take back what she’d said to him that night. The only way Harry was going to forget was if _he_ took some stupid drug after already having had some alcohol in his system, and he was much smarter than that.

The icing on the cake had been finding out that she had hooked up with someone at the party, the sprinkles on top being finding out that it wasn’t the first time she had gone behind his back like that. When he confronted her about it, she hardly seemed incredibly remorseful. _“You weren’t paying attention to me anymore.”_ A lie that in no way excused her.

It was an unbelievably shitty end to what had been Harry’s favourite relationship so far. It had hit him hard: he didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to go out, struggled to do anything other than listen to sad songs and wear a perpetually blank expression. The lads had tried their best to lift his spirits, but he just felt like he _couldn’t_. Nobody had ever spoken to him like Jacqui had, never mistreated him like she did. He knew he wasn’t completely blameless, but it took him a long time to really believe that he wasn’t deserving of their demise.

Harry, the weird, endearing, breath of fresh air baby of their group, eventually found himself again in the winter. He never let another girl close enough to hurt him like that again, though.

That was, until he met Taylor.

Taylor was holding onto him now with such empathetic protection that Harry knew, despite how he felt at the time, that he was as if every bit worthy of real love as everyone else. She cradled his head as they clutched onto each other, Harry finding comfort in her compassion when the tears started rolling down his cheeks as he recounted the past. He hadn’t cried about it since he had moved on so long ago, and he definitely hadn’t cried in front of Taylor before. He’d been trying not to, really trying not to, but the exact same thing had happened when he had told his mum when he went home during winter break shortly after it had all gone down. He was more emotional than he sometimes let on.

For a long time, neither of them said anything, only sat there wrapped up in each other’s arms, letting everything he had said settle in the air. Getting it off his chest felt good – he hadn’t realised how important it was to open up to her about it, or that it was something holding him back. He was yet to really understand the latter.

When Harry’s eyes dried and he slowly lifted his head from her shoulder, Taylor’s eyes looked just as glossy. “I can’t believe anyone could do that to you,” she said, her voice firm and thick. “You deserve so much better than that.”

Harry just shrugged, and she ran her fingers through his hair.

 _“Harry,”_ she sighed. “I know with _all_ of my heart that you’re a good person. You’re an _extraordinary_ person – you’re so thoughtful and honest and kind and funny, even when you tell the worst jokes, you always make me laugh. Being around you is like… You make everything better. You’re always so genuinely _you_ and having you around is such a pleasure, ‘cause, like, you bring such a warmth to every room and it’s so _real._ I can’t even remember not having you next door. Seriously, I can’t imagine not having you in my life, you’ve become such a big part of it. You’ve got such a beautiful heart, Harry. You deserve someone who will love you with all of theirs and treat you with nothing but kindness.

“You were so _good_ to me when Sam and I broke up; I had no idea it was because you _knew_ what I was going through. I can’t thank you enough for how much you helped me. You helped remind me that I’m worth it. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me – everything since we met – and I _need_ you to know how much I appreciate _you_. You, Harry. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“You’re going to make me cry again,” Harry softly replied, a small smile forming on his lips. A light giggle left Taylor’s, and she quickly wiped under her eyes before she cupped his face and pressed a gentle kiss to either of his reddened cheeks.

“I just want you to know how special you are.”

“You know you are too, right?”

She nodded, and again they hugged each other tight.

“You’re going to make the right girl so happy,” she said quietly beside his ear. “You just have to let her in first.”

He already had.

 

*** * * * ***

Harry’s sleep was restless that night. He’d drifted off much earlier than Taylor, his sore eyes happy for some rest. It was her that put an end to his fidgeting and mumbled little sounds as she woke him from the unpleasant dream he was having.

_“Hey… Baby, it’s okay, it’s just a dream… It’s okay…”_

Moaning as he was pulled from sleep by her quiet words and gentle fingers caressing his face, Harry fluttered his eyes open to find Taylor propped up on her side, looking down at him in concern. The bedside lamp was on and she was wearing her glasses, a book with a colourful marker indicating her page resting between them. She often stayed up reading. She read a lot of young adult books; it helped her find her voice for her own.

“Are you okay?” Taylor softly made sure. He gave the slightest little nod, still not really with it, and she flopped back down on her back, lifting her arm up welcomingly. “C’mere, baby.”

As soon as he rolled over and snuggled up to her, he was overwhelmed with relief. Right then, there didn’t seem to be anything as wholly comforting as resting his head on her chest and his arm over her stomach. He fit perfectly against her, with her arm dropping down around him to keep him close. His eyes closed and he never wanted to move from this spot.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” she considerately thought to ask.

“’s okay,” Harry murmured, voice low and incredibly soft. The light didn’t bother him at all; he could very easily fall asleep in the middle of the day. It wouldn’t take him long to drift back off now.

Taylor returned to her book, and there was a stillness in the air, a reassuring kind of peacefulness. For the first time, as he lay there tucked under her arm, Harry felt as young as he was in comparison to her. Their age difference never mattered to either of them, but for once his youth occurred to him, brought on by the vulnerability of opening up to her earlier. He felt so much smaller, much less experienced, and yet all it seemed to inspire was a longing to be with her even more. Perhaps it was his half-asleep state perpetuating it, but he felt so _much_ for her, such immense admiration and adoration for everything she was. He wanted to learn from her and have her look out for him always. With her, he wanted to take on the world.

All of this made him tilt his head up and tell her what he had always thought but had never actually said.

“Tay?” Harry whispered in his sweet sleepy voice. Her eyes dropped from her book to his face intently. “You’re my best friend.”

A softness swept over her features, something clicking in her mind, and she smiled down at him, stroking his hair. “You’re my best friend, too,” she returned, and right then, he couldn’t think of anything greater he had ever had the pleasure of hearing.

Soon after he moved his head back comfortably, Harry fell back to sleep feeling lighter, having no idea that his four words held such enormity that meant so much to Taylor. She was sure of what he was getting at; he never knew that she kissed the top of his head and lost interest in her book in favour of cuddling him until she fell into her own dreamland, where anything between them was possible.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Harry’s first Thanksgiving was a quiet one. While many spent the holiday with their families, it was a celebration of friendship for those unable to make it back home. Taylor and Karlie, though they were keeping things small this year, were determined to make it an equally special one.

Both girls had video chatted with their families earlier in the day, Karlie and Josh having spent the morning at Josh’s parents’ place an hour or so away. Harry had wondered, not being an American, whether he could properly join in, but Taylor had insisted that the point of the day was to spend it with the people you were thankful to have in your life. It wouldn’t be right not to include him.

It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without a generous amount of food, either, and with two girls who loved to cook in charge, they were destined to end up with more than enough for the four of them spending the night together. Harry and Josh had a pretty relaxed afternoon together while the girls made it quite clear that they were more capable of preparing a memorable Thanksgiving dinner than they were. They played a couple of games of Scrabble together, which, admittedly, Harry was glad Taylor was too busy to join in on – she was awfully competitive, and Scrabble was one of her best games. It was a tough feat to beat someone whose specialty was words, especially one who liked to put down things like ‘quixotic’ on a triple point score square.

They were all starving by the time their meal was ready, the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen having teased them for the last couple hours. Glass bowls filled with salad, roast potatoes, and a mixture of cooked vegetables were arranged around the main attraction: the perfectly done turkey, skin crispy and glistening. It felt like Christmas to Harry – especially with Taylor in a fuzzy red sweater – and he was grateful that they wanted to share it with him.

Each sitting around the table with a glass of wine, they all held a smile as they glanced between each other.

“This looks amazing, ladies,” Josh complimented their work, both of them giving him appreciative grins. “Who’s cutting the turkey?”

“Karlie!” Taylor was quick to appoint. “Show off those muscles, girl.”

Laughing, Karlie flexed her arms, her strength noticeable even under the sleeves of her sweater. A wellbeing enthusiast, she was an avid gym attender, and the results really were impressive. How no one had snatched her up to be some kind of brand ambassador was a mystery.

So she did the honours of carving the meat, offering each of them a helping to begin with. They filled up their plates with sides, Josh receiving a nudge in the arm from Karlie when he tried sneaking a cube of cheese into his mouth before anyone else had started.

“We’ve always said thanks after,” he reasoned.

“That doesn’t mean you can pick cheese out the bowl with your fingers,” she chastised, though she was smiling.

It was a wonderfully well-prepared feast, one that lasted long as the four of them chatted all through it. Harry heard plenty of stories from Thanksgivings past, both of those successful and those not quite as much. He had a little mishap of his own with a blob of gravy dripping down onto his jeans before the piece of potato he had drizzled in it made it to his mouth, but that was nothing compared to the drunk aunt Josh and Karlie had encountered _this_ _morning_ over lunch.

“She tripped over the dog and nearly crashed right into the wine rack,” Josh recounted with a shake of his head. Their own dog, Joe, was currently sitting next to Karlie’s chair, forever hoping that she would treat him to another little piece of turkey.

“Doesn’t your dad have, like, hundred-year-old bottles?” Taylor asked him.

“Yep,” he deadpanned, and the lot of them started laughing.

“Speaking of getting drunk, what are we doing for my birthday?” Taylor nicely segued, giggling a little more. “Are we going with the club?”

She dorkily pretended to raise the roof with her hands, smacking Harry in the arm when he quipped, “I don’t think they let you in with those dance moves.”

“Don’t make me wish you were leaving before my birthday.”

“You’d miss me too much if I was.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

Their childish interaction had Karlie glancing across at them knowingly. Neither of them were as subtle as they thought they were – they were sitting across from a long-term couple, for god’s sake. They couldn’t hide a thing.

When they were positively stuffed – though not quite so much that dessert was out of the question – they refilled their wine glasses and remained at the table, still making conversation until they thought to wrap things up by saying thanks.

They each went around the table with a few sentences of what they were thankful for (another thing that wasn’t so appealing with a wordsmith around), and when it lastly got around to Harry, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. They said he didn’t have to partake if he didn’t want to, but it felt wrong not to. They hadn’t let him in so he could just sit and watch.

“Um,” Harry smiled a little shyly. “I’m thankful for all of the opportunities I’ve had here. It’s not been easy being so far away from home, but it’s having such good mates like you lot that make it worth it. Being here’s changed my life, and I’m really thankful to be doing something I enjoy with such interesting people around me.”

Taylor raised her glass in a toast, and they each followed suit, sipping red wine after the classic _chink_ of glasses. Josh and Karlie stole a kiss when they thought the others weren’t looking, but it had Taylor rolling her eyes at Harry, a smile on her face. That could be them, he thought. That could be them.

There wasn’t a great deal of difference between the pairs when they packaged the leftovers and moved to the lounge. They unnecessarily squished together on the one couch, the girls in the middle leaning towards the guys at the ends. Karlie tucked herself under Josh’s arms, while Taylor and Harry stayed close but not so affectionate. If they were alone, they might’ve done the same, but they were used to toning it down in front of others. The extent of their attachment was for their eyes only.

On each TV channel they flicked to, there seemed to be a holiday special playing, and they watched an episode or so before a cute Christmas movie started that they couldn’t _not_ watch. The girls extended their culinary prowess with a homemade apple pie for dessert, almost impossibly comforting with its warm, sweet taste.

When they all got to playing a game of Scrabble together around the coffee table, Taylor made her mark as reigning word queen, though Harry wasn’t all that far behind. They replaced the board game with a deck of cards, a game of poker having them betting mini marshmallows as they sat around sipping wine. Josh regretted having taught Karlie years ago, since she had a mean poker face and seemed to be awfully good at strategy. They all tried to throw each other off – Taylor had a penchant for poking Harry in the cheek, didn’t like it so much when he tried to get his own back – but none of them were much good at breaking Karlie. She was scarily good at holding a vacant expression.

She beat Taylor in a staring competition, though Taylor was at a disadvantage when she had little Joe come up behind her, his wet nose brushing against the slice of bare skin on her lower back where her sweater had ridden up when she leaned forward. She had thrown a small handful of marshmallows at Karlie in spite, one making it down the front of her top and having the lot of them in giggles.

“You two are like children,” Karlie commented in amusement when Taylor and Harry took to tossing marshmallows at each other to catch them in their mouths, most of them successful.

“Dogs, actually,” Josh corrected her. “You know how Joe likes treats thrown at him like that.”

“Cats like it too,” Taylor was quick to point out. “Don’t insult a cat lover with your dog similes.”

“Feisty like a cat,” Harry teasingly muttered, making her smile his way.

“You sleep like a cat. You’re in love with your naps,” she noted.

“‘ _In love’_ is a bit dramatic.”

“Either that or I bore you to sleep on occasion.”

Harry tilted her chin up, brushing a finger over her bottom lip without thought. “You’re terribly boring,” he lied, and when she playfully bit the end of his finger, she wasn’t thinking either.

It was in the early hours of the morning that they called it quits and headed to bed. Harry and Taylor had the spare bedroom to share, and once they all said goodnight to one another, went through their nightly routines, there was a quiet moment between the two when they were finally alone, door shut behind them. Just a silent gaze before they naturally moved towards each other, falling into a long hug that said more than words would’ve.

They were beyond thankful for the other. There was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other, and even without saying it, they knew.

Climbing into the bed together, they kept their usual safe distance apart, Harry flicking off the bedside light. He wasn’t used to staying here, and it took him a moment to adjust to the setting in the darkness, something Taylor no longer had to worry about.

“I’m really glad you came today,” she whispered to him kindly. “Did you like it?”

“How could I not?” he smiled, turning his head to her to make out her shadowed face. “Thanks for inviting me. ‘s very nice of all of you.”

“Do you always have to be so impossibly polite?” Taylor teased, laughing just a little. She didn’t want him any other way.

There was a bit of a silence between them before she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he annoyingly pointed out.

“You know what you said… did you mean me? Have I changed your life?”

“Yeah,” Harry instantly answered, not needing any time to think. “You’ve changed it more than anyone else here.”

By the time Taylor worked up the nerve to ask her next question – _“Do you love me?”_ – too long had passed. Harry had fallen asleep and the moment was gone.  

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

After Thanksgiving, Harry came down with a cold, just in time for the winter carnival they had planned to go to on the weekend.

A stuffy nose wasn’t going to stop him from having a good time, though. Bundled up in a jumper and coat, looking unfairly adorable in his bid to keep warm, Harry sat in the backseat of Josh’s car along with Taylor for the drive further upstate. The idea had been Teo’s – they were meeting him and his new boyfriend there – and when Karlie and Josh had agreed to tag along, Taylor had begged Harry to come with them so she wouldn’t be fifth wheeling.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been the only single one around you lot?” he’d rightfully argued, yet it had taken minimal effort on Taylor’s part to convince him to go. Watching her pout and bat her eyelashes had been quite something.

He slept through most of the afternoon car ride, head resting against the window. He was unaware that Taylor kept looking across at him, making sure that he was okay. She was worried about him worsening his cold by being out in the potential rain.

There was a decent crowd when they arrived at the carnival – justly so, considering it appeared to be quite impressive indeed. Lucky to score a parking space in the closest lot as someone else was leaving, they could see the oval filled with rides, food trucks and craft stalls, people of all ages wandering around. It had been going since mid-morning and wasn’t closing until into the night, all to start over again the next and final day of the four-day affair.

They met with Teo and his boyfriend by the merry-go-round, the two looking impossibly good-looking standing together in their high-end coats and skinny jeans. Harry recognised the taller of the pair from the Halloween party, one of the zombie clan, only in a much cleaner state; his name was David.

The six of them started their way around, checking out what was on offer. They scouted out which rides they wanted to go on, though Harry wasn’t too keen on the short rollercoaster the organisers had managed to pull. The line was really freaking long and he knew he was going to get stuck in it eventually, what with everyone else’s excitement over it.

While they perused the stalls filled with the various homemade delights, from artwork to jewellery to jam, they munched on the snacks they’d each picked up on their first circle around. Harry chewed on the end of a churro, cinnamon dusting his lips, as Taylor held up a gold necklace with a pendant shaped like a small bird in flight hanging in the centre, a candy apple grasped in her other hand.

“Don’t you already have one like that?” he recalled, watching her instead of what was occupying the table.

Taylor glanced at him, tilting her head a little. “How do you remember that? I haven’t worn that one in ages.”

He just shrugged, as if he didn’t regularly notice those kinds of things about her and store them in a special place of his mind.

“D’you remember where was selling fairy floss?” he asked when she set the necklace back down. He’d hardly eaten much that day and all the carnival food smells were getting to him; he was already debating what to choose for dinner, early as it was.

The few of them close enough to hear him glanced his way, though Taylor was the one to raise her brows and repeat, “Fairy floss?”

She was teasing, just like someone always seemed inclined to do whenever he said something different, and he smiled as he took another bite of his churro. “You know. Fairy floss.”

“I think you mean candy floss here, honey,” Karlie informed him as she moved around him to look further down the table, her hand briefly touching his shoulder, friendly.

“Aww, I wanted to see him confuse someone with his Britishness,” Taylor pretended to be disappointed, a playful smile on her face.

“Oh, go back to your toffee apple,” he tried to sound flippant, but a smile was still smacked on his lips and his voice was thicker with his cold. It had Taylor laughing and affectionately flicking his arm.

“Where abouts are you from, Harry?” David asked him, a question he never seemed to stop receiving but was still happy to answer.

“Cheshire. It’s to the north of England.”

“Posh country,” Taylor threw in for good measure, and Harry flashed her an amused frown.

“No it’s not.”

“Do you even listen to your voice when you speak?”

“Stop making fun of me. I don’t make fun of you for where you’re from.”

“That’s because you can’t think of anything to say about Pennsylvania.”

“’s okay. Plenty of other things about you that have that potential.”

“Hey!”

Laughing at each other, Harry easily rested his hand on her lower back, Taylor grinning back at him. Without meaning to, they were reflecting the couples they were with, familiar touches and casual hints of flirting. Anyone watching would’ve assumed they were just the same; they seemed to be the only ones not noticing how _together_ they were.

As they continued browsing around, Harry enjoyed talking to David about where he was from. David had been on a tour through Europe a couple years ago, as so many do, and they bonded over London in all its glory. Hearing stories of cities visited that weren’t terribly far from his had Harry wishing he had been able to do more travelling while he was home – his family had never had the means for those kinds of holidays, and he certainly hadn’t when he left for uni – but it was never too late. He was only young, had already ventured further than most people he knew, and he would always find his way back to the land he knew best. He’d have that journey one day.

Harry eventually got his desired fairy floss, pulled off bits of the pink spun sugar while they waited in line to ride the dodgem cars. He refused to share with Taylor on the grounds of her earlier teasing, though she still managed to sneak a wisp when he wasn’t paying attention, flashing him such a gorgeous cheeky smile when he noticed that he couldn’t possibly be bothered by it. For the millionth time, he refrained from trying to kiss her.

There was music blaring from the ride, raising voices as they stood in line. They were stuck standing with the most embarrassing person in line: Taylor dancing without inhibition to the Fall Out Boy song blasting through the speakers, singing along without fear of who might hear. The couple ahead of them glanced back at her with strange looks, but she didn’t give a damn. Taylor was always herself, wonderfully so. Each of them adored her for it.

It was a free-for-all when they got their turn on the dodgems. The pointless ‘no bumping’ sign was expectedly ignored, the six of them not giving a single shit about which of them they collided with. Harry had a bit of a mishap with one of the kids in a blue car after Josh rammed into the back of his, sending him T-boning with the unsuspecting boy who was drifting in front of him. He drove off fine, while Harry frantically spun his steering around until his car stopped stalling, cursing aloud and flipping Josh off the next time he went past him. Taylor and Karlie got stuck together at one point, and Harry had found it greatly amusing to cruise on past Taylor’s side saying, “Not so swift after all.” It would’ve been much more effective if he had been paying more attention to where he was going and not on her so that he didn’t slam right into the back of Teo’s car completely unintentionally, but it had the three of them bursting into laughter, which really was the whole point.

They were each grinning as their cars powered down and their turn was up, climbing out and nudging each other as they made their way off the ride. Taylor moved to Harry’s side, giggling before she had even said anything.

“You a little out of practice with driving, huh?” she teasingly grinned.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded. “It’s been ages since I’ve driven a tiny car I can barely fit my legs into.”

“You’re telling me,” Karlie chimed in, stretching one long denim-coated leg out in front of her emphatically. “I felt like a clown in that thing.”

“My beautiful giraffe,” Taylor sighed affectionately, the girls putting their arms around each other like the perfect pair they were.

They stopped here and there before they tacked themselves onto the end of the line for the rollercoaster. It was still long, and Harry still wished he was instead waiting in line for the kiddy one: the one that went around in a neat oval, only one small bump in the middle. The train was designed like a ladybird and it was highly unlikely he would fit into one of the tiny cars, but at least it wouldn’t have had him chewing on the bit of skin beside his thumbnail as they waited.

Taylor picked up on it, gently touching his shoulder while the others were in conversation. “You okay?” she asked, voice lowering.

“I don’t really like rollercoasters,” he quietly admitted, eyeing the contraption up ahead. There were people currently on board screaming as they went down a drop.

“It’s not a scary one,” Taylor tried to reassure him, which was a lot easier for someone who wasn’t fazed by the ride to say. “We’re not going to go upside down or anything like that.”

“I should hope not,” he said, cracking a small smile at her. “I don’t really want to die at a carnival.”

“It would make for a good story, though.”

“I’m glad I would be able to inspire you to write a bestseller.”

Something flickered in Taylor’s expression, something he didn’t understand and she wouldn’t explain even if he asked.

“Please come on it?” was rather how she followed on. “I’ll hold your hand the entire time if it’ll help.”

Harry almost laughed. “That’s a very kind offer, Taylor.”

“Pleeease?” She gave him a winning smile. “It’ll be fun.”

It was not fun. The best thing it had going for it was that it was over pretty quickly, but nobody else seemed to agree that was a selling point. Everyone seemed to like it, actually, all twists and turns and drops that made your stomach dip. Harry was doing fine up until the fast helix at the end, would’ve gotten off without complaint if it weren’t for that one part. He was really fucking glad they hadn’t ridden anything bigger and more nauseating, since the last thing anyone wanted was to throw up all over their crush who was sitting beside them having a fantastic time.

He might not have been sick all over her while they were _on_ the ride, but both of them were greatly concerned about it when they got _off_. All it took was Taylor to look at him once for the exhilarated smile to instantly wipe off her face as they stumbled off the ride. She had a wordless exchange with Karlie before she hurried Harry off through the gap between rides in search of some kind of privacy, a near hopeless aim at a crowded carnival.

Each unsettled second had him regretting his choice to chew nervously on some of the rope candy he’d bought earlier while they were waiting in line, psyching himself up for the ride only he wasn’t excited for. He regretted the churro and the fairy floss, suddenly hated the smell of festival food in the air because his insides were yelling at him for making them go on a ride that spun them round and round, until, finally, they couldn’t take it anymore. Harry unceremoniously threw up behind a tent, the kids inside practicing circus tricks thankfully unaware. It was gross, those around who happened to notice quickly averting their eyes, but Taylor stayed at his side, helpfully holding his hair back for him as he hunched over.

“You’re okay, babe,” she cooed, gently rubbing his back. “It’s okay.”

She was so kind, she would probably still say that even if he _had_ been sick on her.

They carefully manoeuvred their way around the mess and cut through to the outer edge of the park, where they found some space on a wooden bench for him to sit for a few minutes. Harry balled up the tissue she had given him to wipe his mouth with and kept it in his fist, avoiding looking up at Taylor standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder, or the older woman and a toddler taking up the other end of the bench.

“Have some water, babe,” she instructed, holding out a bottle she’d fished out of her handbag. He unscrewed the top and took a sip, swishing the water around in his mouth before twisting around and spitting into the bushes behind them, rinsing out the lingering metallic taste. It had Taylor wrinkling her nose. “Not quite what I meant.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, sitting back normally and having a proper drink.

“I’m so sorry I made you come on the rollercoaster,” she apologised sincerely. “I really am. I shouldn’t have tried to push you into it, not when you weren’t feeling well in the first place.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t _have_ to listen to you.”

“Then why did you?”

It was silly, and it had Harry smiling shyly up at her. “I didn’t want to just _stand_ _there_ watching all of you go on.”

Running her fingers through his hair, Taylor looked down at him warmly. “Not going on wouldn’t have made you any less of a man,” she reassured him; it sounded even worse being said out loud. “Not everyone likes the same rides. I love rollercoasters, but I get why not everyone does. Like, there are ones I’d definitely be scared to go on.”

“I’m not _scared_ ,” he was quick to intervene, trying to salvage some masculinity. “I just don’t really like them. And I’m not normally sick, either. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Taylor exhaled, giggly as she perched herself on the armrest of the bench. “You don’t have to be like that with me. It’s just _me_.”

And yet, that seemed all the more reason to try to impress her.

“Well, if you’re going to go on anything else like that, I think I might sit out,” he decided, sneezing right on cue. Her fingers trailed the nape of his neck and he sighed quietly.

They sat like that for a moment until Harry felt a tap on the arm. He turned his head to see the toddler on his other side looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. The woman she was with was too busy on her phone to notice the little girl straying from her side.

“Why is your hair longer that hers?” she asked, pointing a chubby finger up at Taylor. It was unexpected, and Harry gave her a friendly smile.

“Why is _your_ hair longer than both of ours?” he countered. The girl looked down at her long braids that came down to her hips. He had her stumped.

Not for long, though. “Is she your girlfriend?” was her next question, and this time her mother shot her a sharp glance.

“Leave them alone, Crystal.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Harry complimented, his gaze still on the toddler.

“Do you love her?” she pressed with her unguarded youthful curiosity. Not everyone would’ve humoured her, but Harry leaned in closer, conspiratorial.

“I haven’t told her that yet,” he whispered, only meaning it playfully, but it had Crystal smacking her tiny hands over her mouth, looking up at Taylor with huge, guilty eyes. She shuffled back to her mother so as not to blow any more of his secrets, and Harry grinned up at Taylor, her confused expression letting him know she hadn’t heard what he’d said.

They headed off to meet back up with the others shortly after, Harry waving a quick goodbye to the little girl as they walked away. Taylor slid her arm around his waist protectively and naturally he put his around her shoulders, a comfortable stance as they wandered towards the mirror maze the others were at, according to Karlie’s text.

“You’re good with kids,” she commented, and he smiled at her, chewing on the stick of gum he’d pulled out of his wallet to freshen up with.

“I love kids,” he said. There was no doubt that he would have a family one day; he was going to make a great father.

“What was it that you told her?” Taylor asked, and as casual as it was, he could tell how intrigued she actually was.

“That’s between me and her, love,” he replied teasingly, giving her a playful wink.

Much to Harry’s relief, the others weren’t weird about their sudden exit. They gave him friendly smiles, didn’t tease him about it or anything of the like. If anything, it was more interesting seeing the pair of them holding onto each other so openly. There was a very good reason for the little girl’s questions, and it had a lot to do with how fondly they always looked at each other.

They all found a spare patch of grass to rest on for a while when they grabbed something more filling to eat. Harry was cautious about unsettling his stomach again, as unlikely as he thought it was that he’d feel nauseous again, but Taylor happily let him share the serve of nachos she picked up from one of the food trucks. He still had some of his rope candy tucked safely in her bag if he got hungrier later.

The damp grass left them each with cold bums, and while a few of them split to make a bathroom trip, Karlie came up beside Harry, giving him a friendly poke in the side.

“Things are going well, huh?” she beamed, and it took him a moment to catch on to exactly what she meant.

“Am I missing something here?” he said, joking.

“You should take her in the haunted house,” she encouraged, which had him frowning a little.

“She hates those kinds of scary things.”

“Which is _why_ you ask her. We’ll go with you, don’t worry. Unless it’s when you two decide to have _your moment_.”

Karlie’s cheeky grin had Harry rolling his eyes, huffing a laugh. She had never given up on her inkling that he and Taylor were going to end up together, and ever since Sam had been pushed out of the picture, she hadn’t been so subtle in the hints she gave him. What was ridiculous was that Harry never really believed she did it because she _knew_ how Taylor truly felt.

“There’s not going to be a _moment_ ,” he guaranteed her, and just as he expected, Taylor profusely shook her head when she returned from the bathroom and he suggested the haunted house be their next stop.

“No. No way. I hate haunted houses,” she said, wide eyes clearly disapproving of the idea.

“It’s not, like, _real_ ,” he pointed out. “And you’ll have the rest of us with you. You’ll be fine.”

Biting her lower lip, Taylor debated it, giving Karlie a bit of a suspicious glance before she settled back on Harry. “I swear to god, if any of you make fun of me, I’m getting the bus home.”

Just before they made it to the ride, Harry leaned in and made her laugh when he told her, “I’ll hold your hand the entire time if it’ll help.”

Walking through the dark corridors, the house was set up with all the regular spooky stuff: fake spiders, dummies on motion sensors, costumed workers jumping out of the shadows. It was incredibly obvious why guys brought their girlfriends here: just like when watching a scary movie, the girl would freak out and the guy would feel extremely pleased with himself as he comforted her in his arms. Only this time, it was the friend feeling pleased: Karlie and Josh were walking a few paces behind them, a smile sneaking up on the blonde’s face every time they saw something terrify Taylor up ahead and she would gravitate towards Harry for protection. The house was filled with her screams as each new obstacle took her by surprise; honestly, it wouldn’t have shocked Harry if she ended up bursting into tears the next time someone dressed as a zombie jumped out from behind a hidden door. She really hadn’t been kidding when she said she hated haunted houses.

Even when Harry touched her waist at one point, she jolted with fear. “It’s just me, you tosser,” he laughed, pulling her in closer to his side.

“I thought I was being felt up by a zombie!” she cried, trying to hide her face on his shoulder as they walked along. “Is it almost over?”

It was, and Taylor practically bolted for the exit as soon as she saw the light. She wrapped her arms around herself as she waited for the others, uttering, “I can’t believe we _paid_ to go in there,” when Harry caught up to her. “Feel my heart,” she commanded, taking his hand and resting it on her chest. Fingers spread over the soft fabric of her sweater, he could feel the fast thump of her heartbeat, and he smiled as he wrapped her up in a comforting hug.

“I’m sorry, love.”

“We’re even now. No more rides we don’t like.”

It was a deal.

By the time the sun had dropped past the horizon line of the cloudy sky, they all felt pretty ready to begin their journey home, but not before they had finished off the day with a ride on the Ferris wheel. Waiting until late to have a turn on it was arguably the better option: if the sky was clear, it would’ve been stunning to watch the sunset while on board, but with the darkened sky and the carnival lights shining brightly in bold colours, it was its own kind of magical.

They split into their expected pairs for the two-person cars, and while it would’ve been ideal for one of the couples to stop at the top, of course fate had Harry and Taylor’s carriage drawing to a halt at the very top of the wheel one time they stopped.

Out of childish impulse, Harry started rocking the car, making Taylor’s knuckles turn white as she gripped onto the bar holding them safely inside.

“Stop it,” she demanded, and immediately he let the car sway itself back to its still position.

“Sorry.”

Taylor nodded, loosening her grip as her gaze drank up their perfect view. “This is supposed to be the most romantic spot, y’know?”

“I think you mean the scariest,” he contended, daring to peer over the edge at the ground below. It wasn’t the tallest Ferris wheel he’d ever been on, but they were still a decent way up in the air.

“But you’re meant to kiss so you don’t look down,” she explained, almost like an invitation. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself if it wasn’t, though.

“Love, it’d be my pleasure to kiss you right now, but I’d rather not when I was sick earlier.”

“You’ve been chewing gum since then, though.”

“I still don’t have the best taste in my mouth. Kind of minty with vomit undertones.”

“I regret bringing this up.”

“You should also regret saying it like that.”

“Shut up.”

The both of them giggled at that. Harry slipped his hand underneath hers, slowly intertwining their fingers. Their eyes met, soft gazes aligning, and honestly, it would’ve been so wonderful to kiss her right in that moment. It _would’ve_ been romantic, an obvious tension sparking between them, daring them to lean in and break their ‘just friends’ mould. Regardless of what he’d said, he really just wanted to kiss her, and maybe if the Ferris wheel hadn’t suddenly started moving again, he would’ve.

It sure would’ve been better than spending the rest of the night longing to have taken that chance.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Harry was spending the next Saturday night in, trying to teach himself how to play ‘Come a Little Closer’ on guitar with a tutorial he had found on YouTube. He was going pretty well – it turned out he was good at picking things up fairly easily. He hardly considered himself all that talented, but at the very least he was surprising himself by not being, well, _shit_.

It was another one of those days where he was missing being home, though. It was his sister’s birthday, and while he might not have spent the day with her had he been back in London anyway, he still would’ve celebrated with her at some point. Instead, all they had was a FaceTime call, where they chatted for a little while and she thanked him for the paperback and the vintage necklace he had sent her in the mail. He was eagerly counting down the days until he finally got to get on that plane and see her and everyone else again.

He wasn’t the only one not having the easiest of times, though. Rather, his neighbour was having a rather testing day, and she unexpectedly turned up at his door in the evening and started crying almost as soon as he opened the door and she flung herself into his arms.

“ _Hey,_ ” Harry exhaled, a frown furrowing his brow as he pushed the door shut and enveloped Taylor in his arms. She buried her face in his loose hair, the frame of her glasses pressing against his neck. “Hey, what’s wrong, love? What’s going on?”

“I can’t do anything,” Taylor wailed, a wildly incorrect statement that had Harry hugging her tighter.

“What are you talking about, love?”

“I can’t do it! This _fucking_ assignment – it’s driving me _crazy!_ I’ve gotta finish everything before I go – I wanna finish as much as I can before Austin gets here and it’s just so… _impossible!_ I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do it.”

Running his hand up her back, Harry’s fingers travelled through her wavy hair. “Come sit down, love.”

They briefly detached to move over to the couch, Taylor immediately curling up under Harry’s arm, taking off her glasses and wiping under her eyes. She looked tired, stressed; she always put pressure on herself to do well, perhaps too much at times. With it being near the end of the semester, there were plenty of things perpetuating her drive to be the best she could possibly be. It was inevitable all of that was going to catch up with her eventually.

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this,” she thought aloud, shaking her head. “I should’ve just kept writing, I mean – do I _want_ to be a teacher? I don’t know. I thought I was broadening my options by going back to school but I’m feeling like I put myself in a box. Like I’m never going to get to do all the things I want to do.”

Harry rubbed her back gently, knowing well that what she needed was just to vent to someone who would properly listen.

“I want to travel. I want to see new things, be inspired by new people, and I can’t _do_ that if I’m stuck in one city constantly. I don’t have the time to work on my own projects now with all my assignments, how am I supposed to if I start teaching? What I want most is to write. I have a million ideas and I just– I felt like everything I was doing was _shit,_ like _really_ shit, so I went back to school. I thought it would be fun. I’m so stupid.”

“ _Taylor_ ,” he sighed, holding her close. “You are… _incredibly_ intelligent, love. You really are.”

“I feel like my brain is made of marshmallows,” she moped, bringing a small smile to his lips.

“At least it’s sweet,” he playfully replied, and she gave him an appreciative little squeeze.

“I hate the end of semester. Coffee is the only thing keeping me going.”

“You sound stressed, love.”

“That would be an understatement.”

Taylor sat up a bit, giving her eyes a rub. She was make-up free, and the Notre Dame sweatshirt she had on was both motivation and a cruel reminder that her brother was coming to stay with her in a matter of days. He was heading over from Indiana just in time for her birthday, and together they were going to travel home for Christmas. She had been aiming to get her assignments finished off as much as possible before he arrived so they wouldn’t be in the way, but that might’ve been aiming a _little_ too high. It had her wound up, that’s for sure.

“You’re so lucky you don’t have to do any of this anymore.”

“Actually, I’ve been trying to condense four week’s work into two, so I think I have some idea of what you’re going through.”

Harry was trying to make as much progress on his work before he left for the holidays, too. He didn’t want to bore his family by sitting around on his laptop either, but he knew he wasn’t realistically going to get everything wrapped up before his flight. Thanks to his clever timetabling, though, he was going to get everything that he needed to do here done in time. The rest would be easily sent over email – not a big deal.

“What am I supposed to do, Harry?” Taylor asked, looking up at him with wide, searching eyes.

“I think you need to take a break,” he supposed. “Stay here a while, relax a bit.”

“How can I relax when I’m having an existential crisis?” she groaned, flopping down onto his lap, twisting onto her back to gaze up at him.

Harry smiled down at her, gently brushing her hair out of her face as she rested her head on his thigh. His fingers trailed down her jaw, down her neck, and ghosted over her chest before settling on her stomach. Her eyes never left his.

“I’ll give you a massage,” he suggested light-heartedly, almost making Taylor giggle. “What?”

“That sounds like you’re coming onto me.”

“Maybe I am.”

They laughed, playful, joking. That might not have primarily been his intention when he said it, but subconsciously he was always dropping hints, planting the seed that could grow into something more.

“I’ll have you know, I give a pretty fantastic massage,” Harry happily informed her, and she gave him a kind smile.

“It’s really not necessary,” she told him.

“Sit up, love.”

Pushing herself upright, Taylor sighed when Harry set his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs beginning to circle between her shoulder blades. The tension she was holding was so clear, as was the relief she found in his simple motions.

“You sure it’s not necessary?” he teased, and she rolled her eyes even though she wasn’t facing him.

“You don’t have to keep going.”

“I’ll go all out for you, if you’d like. If you’re comfortable with it.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry dropped his hands down her back, very carefully slipped one under the hem of her sweatshirt to touch the bare skin of her waist, not going any further. “No one’s given you one before?” he asked, finding that hard to believe. “No hot oil or anything?”

“You’ve given a girl a hot oil massage?” she asked back, sounding just as surprised.

“I’ve even had a girl give me one,” he revealed, not letting himself think too much about it. “I don’t think I’ve got any oil, but maybe like, some cream or something.”

Taylor twisted her upper half, meeting his eyes curiously. “Are you being serious?”

“Yeah,” he answered easily. “I mean, I just want to help you feel better. If it’ll help, then yeah, I’d love to. But only if you want it, obviously.”

She considered him for a moment, searching his face for some kind of hint that he was only toying with her. There was nothing to find, and she looked shy as she finally said, “I could go get something of mine you could use? Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he smiled definitely. “Are _you_ sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“I think so,” she nodded, a light brightening her tired eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

Sliding her glasses back on, Taylor disappeared back next door, returning a couple minutes later with a bottle of body oil she had dug out of her bathroom cabinet. It didn’t have nearly the scandalous application that Harry had used similar stuff for in the past – rather Taylor treated her skin to it every now and then on her own. It had been given to her for one of her birthdays, in amongst a goody bag of a variety of other beauty products.

As he led her into his bedroom, she perked up when she saw the guitar resting on the bed, laptop closed beside it. “I didn’t know you were playing,” she said. She heard him through the walls sometimes, but didn’t want to scare him off by mentioning it all the time. “What were you working on?”

“I’d show you, but I haven’t really finished learning it yet,” he shrugged a little. After the first time he had played for her, Harry hadn’t made many repeat performances. It wasn’t that he was _shy_ , exactly… but it was a lot easier playing in his room alone than it was with an audience.

“Could you still show me?” Taylor asked him hopefully, and really, there was very little chance of him saying no when she smiled at him as sweetly as she did.

So, Harry picked up his guitar and sat down on the edge of the bed with room for her to join him, trying as best as he could to recall what he’d just learnt of the Cage the Elephant song he’d been working on. It wasn’t perfect – or complete – but Taylor still clapped for him and genuinely complimented him, her encouragement never ceasing.

“You really know how to cheer me up, y’know?” Taylor smiled at him – exactly why she had come to him in the first place. Living so close to such a good friend certainly had its perks.

“So, how do you want me?” she asked, and it took great effort to keep his answer clean.

“Just lie down, ‘s probably best. You can go, like, half under the blanket.”

Taylor nodded, taking off her glasses again before she pulled her sweatshirt off over her head. As not to stare, Harry fussed with leaning his guitar up against the wall and moving his laptop away, giving her the space to climb into his bed. Lying on her stomach, she propped herself up on her forearms, watching him over her shoulder.

“You’re not going to be too cold like that, are you?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” she said, despite the goose bumps that had risen on her skin from the sudden change in temperature from taking her shirt off.

After switching the bedside lamp on in exchange for the overhead light, creating a better aesthetic ambience, Harry settled back on the bed next to her. He rested his hand on the pale skin of her lower back, slowly sliding it upwards until he reached the band of her white bra. He felt awkward asking it, but tentatively he said, “Would you mind, um, undoing this?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Taylor replied, reached behind herself to unclasp her bra and shrug the straps off her shoulders, taking the whole thing off and tossing it away with a surprising sense of comfort and confidence. While she had seen him in nothing but his underwear a countless amount of times, it was rare for Harry to see this much of Taylor. He’d occasionally seen her in her underwear and in bikinis, had slept beside her and eaten breakfast with her when she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath her shirts, some thicker than others, but she was very careful with keeping her body private, out of insecurity most likely. Lying there for him like that right then showed an incredible amount of trust, and Harry knew, no matter how much he wanted to lean down and press a slow trail of kisses down her spine, he was not going to overstep the line. This wasn’t the sexual thing he’d done in the past. This was an effort to ease her stress.

Except that there was a pure intimacy in giving and receiving a massage from someone you cared for. There was no escaping it: as Harry dabbed oil onto his palms and rubbed them over her back, working at the knots in her muscles, he sent pleasure right through Taylor’s body, emphasised by the sighs and – _god_ – soft moans leaving her lips. The fact that his hands touching her body could get that kind of reaction from her was utterly amazing to him.

He focused solely on her. He didn’t think of a time with Jacqui or any other girl, but was totally devoted to Taylor, wanting to learn her as much as he wanted to make her feel fairer. He memorised the spot where she had a small constellation of freckles, not quite in the centre, and tried to commit to memory what it was like to touch her soft, smooth skin. His hands were large and spread easily over her back, the both of them very much aware of just how easily he could touch her in other places. It was likely to feel just as good, too. Maybe even better.

There was a part of Harry that was ridiculously frustrated with how much he enjoyed how receptive Taylor was being. It was a grand relief that she had her head turned the other way and her eyes closed, since he hated to think how she might react if she noticed the prominent line his comfy sweatpants did a shit job of hiding. If only he had any idea of the heat radiating between her thighs, of the thoughts floating through her mind.

They didn’t talk for a long time; time passed in a gentle quiet. Taylor became so relaxed that Harry started to wonder if she’d fallen asleep.

“You still awake there, love?”

“Yes,” she replied in such a soft, sleepy voice it was hard to believe, making him smile warmly down at her.

“You should get some sleep, baby.”

“But you feel so _amazing_. And I like when you call me nice things like that.”

“Sleep, baby,” he repeated, grinning widely even though he was sure she wouldn’t be saying the same things if she weren’t so close to drifting off.

“Only if you join me.”

“Course. Just give me a couple minutes first.”

“’kay.”

When Harry left her side to brush his teeth and switch off the remaining lights, Taylor pulled the covers up around her, not bothering to put anything back on her upper half. She had curled up on her side facing the wall when Harry walked back into his bedroom, had fallen asleep before they even got to say goodnight to each other.

Quietly, he changed into the t-shirt he usually slept in through winter and climbed into bed with her. He laid on his back, but not before he pressed a light little kiss to her bare shoulder, feeling a bit guilty, like he’d just taken advantage of her. By now, he should’ve known that if she was still awake, she wouldn’t have minded at all. Rather, she would’ve loved it.

 

*** * * * ***

 

As he fell asleep second, Harry naturally woke up second. Having rolled over onto his stomach, he had his face buried in the pillow, a bit of Taylor’s hair sticking in his mouth. That seemed a little _too_ close for comfort, though she didn’t seem too fazed when he attempted to subtly spit it out.

“Hey you,” Taylor smiled softly, turning her head to him when he stirred.

“Hey,” Harry sleepily replied. At some point in the night he had put his arm around her, sharing her body heat under the blankets.

“Sleep well?”

“Mhmm. Did you?”

“I did, thank you.” She watched him as he blinked slowly, waiting. “What did you dream about?”

“Hmm? Um, I don’t remember.”

“Do you think it was about me?”

“Why d’you ask?”

“Think about where your hand is.”

He did, and it made his cheeks flush when he realised the hand he had around her was touching her bare breast. Just the simple tips of his fingers, but nonetheless he quickly moved his hand away, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologised, suddenly feeling much more awake. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to, like, grope you while we’re sleeping.”

Taylor laughed, a nice, lovely laugh, like she didn’t care at all.

“It’s okay. You were barely touching me.”

“Still sorry.”

“If you properly had your hand on me, like full on feeling me up, then we’d have a problem.”

“Oh? Would you have, like, pushed me out the bed?”

“I was thinking more like kneeing you in the crotch, but both would be even better.” She grinned at him when he gave a chuckle. “What? I might be half naked, but that’s no invitation.”

“I never took it as one.”

“Y’know, this feels like something straight out of a book.”

“Would it perhaps be the part where you say, _‘fuck it, put your hands back on my tits’_?”

Harry got a louder laugh out of her that time, a heart-warming one that, he had to admit, he was very thankful to receive for a joke like that.

“I’m more eloquent than that,” Taylor reminded him, smiling.

“Does that mean it’s a yes?” he playfully deduced, sliding his hand back up towards her chest with no real intention of following through. He just wanted to make her laugh again, which she did, as well as wriggle around a little before she rolled over onto her side to face him, wrapping her arm around him as she cuddled up close.

“I can still feel you, you know,” he told her teasingly as his hand now glided over her back, though he was trying not to think too much about the feeling of her breasts pressing up against his chest, nothing but the fabric of his t-shirt between them.

“You know, I’ve felt you plenty of times in the morning, but I thought it would be nicer not to mention it,” she countered, moving her leg over his waist in case he didn’t get what she meant.

This was too close for friends. And yet, here they were.

Harry waited a little while before he spoke again, collecting his thoughts as they held onto each other more than they should’ve. “Would you like me to make some breakfast?”

“That would be nice,” she answered, quieter.

“What would you like?”

“Surprise me.”

With a reluctance that neither of them should’ve possessed, they disentangled themselves, Harry ducking into the bathroom before heading for the kitchen, Taylor still bundled up in bed. He browsed the usual options of toast and cereal before he figured she deserved a better breakfast than that, considering how she had ended up here in the first place.

He was in the midst of whipping up some scrambled eggs when he heard Taylor’s voice coming from behind him, commenting on the nice smell. He glanced over his shoulder to see her making her way over to the couch, almost dropping the spatula in his hand when he realised she had slunk her way into one of his _shirts_ , not her own. Christ.

“Did you want tea or coffee?” he asked, ignoring the loop of _holy shit_ running through his head.

“Tea, please,” she requested, switching on the TV and casually flicking through the channels. Taylor was right at home with him.

Once he was done with the eggs, separating them onto two plates, Harry boiled the kettle and popped some bread in the toaster. Out of the corner of his eye, he was spying on Taylor, admiring her relaxed out on his sofa with the flannel shirt that had been lying on his floor draped over her top half. He’d been meaning to wash it, but now that it would smell of her, he might not want to.

It couldn’t have gotten better than seeing her like that, surely, but it did. When Harry delivered her a steaming mug of tea, he discovered she had followed his lead with how many buttons to do up: she had only done up the minimum amount that would cover her properly, exposing so much of her décolletage that it had Harry biting down on his lip. He hadn’t been expecting that, and he cursed himself the entire time he went back to collect their plates for immediately thinking such awful thoughts.

Harry tried to distract himself from her while they ate in front of the television, switched to a channel playing _Friends_ that Taylor had found. It might not have been so difficult had he not noticed that every time she leaned forward to pick up and put down her mug, his shirt loosely fell forward and he could see she hadn’t put her bra back on. He silently ate forkfuls of egg, pretending that he wasn’t sitting there fantasizing about putting his mouth all over her chest.

“That was really good, thank you,” Taylor complimented once she had finished her plate, carefully setting it down on the coffee table and glancing at him, glasses framing her rested eyes. “Do you have any plans today?”

“Got a gig tonight,” he answered, swallowing his mouthful and making sure to keep his gaze up. “That’s about it.”

“Would you mind if I tried studying here? The change in environment might be better for me.”

“Course. You can stay here as long as you want, you know that.”

Taylor smiled. “I’ll just go check on the cats and get my stuff. Thanks.”

“’s okay,” he smiled back welcomingly, having her blushing her way back next door when, just before she left, he added, “Oh, Tay? That looks much nicer on you.”

His flattery might’ve been innocent, but his desperate, hurried attempt at easing the thoughts swirling around in his brain by obscenely getting himself off while sitting on the edge of the bed they had just shared while she was gone sure was not.

It sort of helped, though. When Taylor soon returned with her laptop and a couple of notebooks, settling on one end of the couch, Harry busied himself with his own Mac, headphones in so as not to disturb her. He wasn’t quite so fixated on her sitting near him the way that she was, though he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t constantly aware of her.

Taylor was aware of him, too. She peered over at him after an hour or so, nudging him with her foot when he cursed under his breath for not the first time. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” was his instant reply, but naturally it only piqued her interest. Taylor shuffled over to look at his screen, trying not to laugh when she took in the game he was playing.

“Is that a unicorn?”

“Shut up,” he grinned. “Go back to your work.”

“How do you play?”

She watched him have a turn at the silly online game where you played as a unicorn and had to jump over obstacles, aiming to get as far through the course as you could to rack up the most amount of points. She simply shook her head when he fell between two bits of land, yet he got the feeling that if she didn’t have more important things to be doing, she would probably ask if she could have a turn, too.

Harry went through a couple different games, replied to some messages and ended up on YouTube, going through some music videos and a couple recommended interviews. He made them some sandwiches for lunch when they got hungry again, made Taylor some coffee whenever she needed a top up. It was quite a relaxing day – for him, at least.

“How’s it going, love?” Harry asked her when she closed the lid of her laptop after hours of staring at the screen.

“I have to pee,” Taylor unnecessarily informed him, setting her things on the table while she went to the bathroom. She didn’t immediately jump back into things when she came back, though, instead lying across the couch, spreading her legs over the top of his keyboard so he didn’t have a choice but to pay attention to her. “I’m really sorry I’m being so boring.”

“You’ve got things to do, love, it’s fine,” he reassured her, pulling his laptop out from underneath her and moving it onto the table, too. His hands rested on her legs, smoothing over the soft fabric of the black leggings she had on. “Have you got much more to do?”

“Kind of? If I can finish this essay and turn it in early, I’ll feel better. That is, until I have to finish these other essays. Why does every class insist on writing essays?”

Harry smiled over at her softly. “Just imagine all the essays you’ll have to mark as an English teacher.”

Taylor groaned, throwing an arm over her face dramatically. “God, don’t even make me _think_ of that right now.”

“Alright, Miss Swift.”

She nudged him a little with her knee, keeping her face covered while he ran his hand up and down her calf calmingly. His shirt was drooping a little on her, a little too far over on one side, though was just right as not to show her nipple. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He could scarcely remember the last time he had felt this kind of simple intimacy with a girl. It was so immensely different than being with someone he was only spending a night with, even more so when he and Taylor hadn’t even _done_ anything. In a way, it kind of felt more special. Like she was telling him how much she trusted him. Like she was giving him a sign.

When she sat up and wriggled closer to him, that’s what it felt like. Taylor smiled at him gently, tilting her head as she gazed into his eyes. Harry naturally reached out to brush her hair away from her face, and the whole thing was so sweet, so _close_ , that he was sure it was about to happen. They had both kind of leaned in a little as they sat wordlessly, Harry’s arm moving around her waist, and it wouldn’t have taken much effort to close the distance. Just a tip of heads, a press of lips. It would’ve been that easy.

Except, as fate would have it, Harry had to turn his head away at the very moment their hearts were racing with anticipation because he was suddenly overwhelmed with how much he needed to sneeze.

A _sneeze_. A sneeze killed the whole moment.

Although, it surely wouldn’t have been hard to bring it back. It was what Taylor was hoping for, but Harry never did. He backed out for the millionth time, too scared of ruining everything they had. He didn’t realise that by not going for it, he might be doing just that anyway, not until later when they parted ways when Harry had to head out and his phone buzzed with a message.

 **Text: from _Karlie_  
>>** _Why is my best friend accusing me of poor judgement???_

He knew exactly what she meant, and he spent the entire night side-tracked by the thought of what could’ve happened had he kissed Taylor like he always wanted to do, wondering if perhaps the longer he waited, the more she slipped between his fingers. He might never have her at all.


	7. Chapter Seven

A week before Taylor’s birthday, she and Harry went for a meander through Central Park after he was finished with work. It has snowed the previous day with another light dusting in the morning, a thin layer still covering the ground. There were kids out playing in what was left, all bundled up in parkas and gloves. People were taking pictures of the frosty park, too. Both were hoping there was more snow to come soon.

Harry and Taylor, though, were just out for a casual stroll. Taylor had spent the day on campus, in the library between her classes. They were going out for dinner, nothing too special, as a nice kind of treat for her in between all her hard work.

“So. Only one week left of being twenty-six. How do you feel?” Harry smiled at her while they walked along, slow in pace. Both of them were wrapped up in coats over their jumpers, hands buried in pockets for warmth.

“Old,” Taylor answered simply, laughing. “I’m sure that’s hard for you to understand. You’re practically a baby.” She gave his cheek a playful pinch, grinning when he smacked her hand away.

“I’m not a baby.”

“Back in my day, people liked being called baby,” came her cheesy reply, and he rolled her eyes.

“Not being called _a_ baby.”

“Oh my god, can we put you in a onesie?!”

They were both laughing, Harry shaking his head. Perhaps he should make some younger friends so that he wouldn’t always be the littlest all the time, though he did kind of like the attention it brought on.

“I don’t know why you’re not being enthusiastic, onesies are perfectly acceptable for people of all ages,” Taylor tried to tell him. “Austin and I are going to wear our matching ones for Christmas.”

“Do you know how dorky that sounds?” Harry grinned, though it seemed very much like a Swift thing to do, if her brother was as much like her as she said he was.

“You say that now, but I’m sure you’ll be thinking how cute we are when you see pictures.”

“If you say so.”

He knew she was right.

Honestly, Harry was kind of nervous about meeting her brother for the first time. Austin was set to arrive in only two days and Taylor was clearly excited to be seeing him again. Harry didn’t think he would get to spend all that much time with him, apart from when the lot of them were going out on the weekend to celebrate Taylor’s birthday, but he found himself really wanting to make a good impression. He wanted her family to like him, to accept him in the way that she did. He was concerned about whether her parents would – she joked about how they didn’t like tattoos, especially not the amount _he_ had – but if he could get in with her brother, that would be a step in the direction he wanted to head.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon,” Taylor commented a little unexpectedly.

“You make it sound like I’m leaving for good,” Harry said, glancing at her. “I’m only going for two weeks.”

“Yeah, but ever since we met, we haven’t gone two weeks without seeing each other.”

Huh. He hadn’t considered it like that, but she was right. They saw each other on such a regular basis, thanks to the convenience of living right next door to each other, and it _was_ going to be weird not being around her for that long.

“Even if I wasn’t going, _you’d_ still be going home,” he pointed out.

“I’m only going to another state, you’re flying to a whole different country,” she countered. “And if for some reason you couldn’t go, I would’ve invited you to come with me.”

Harry turned his head to her, brows raised at the revelation. “Really?”

“Of course,” Taylor replied, as if it was obvious. “No one should be alone on Christmas. You’d be more than welcome to spend it with us. The more the merrier, y’know?”

It was quite a nice picture, actually. Being properly introduced to her family, joining in on their holiday traditions, feeling like he was a part of something – it wouldn’t be a bad way to spend Christmas at all. If he hadn’t been able to make it home, it would’ve been an enjoyable way to spend the holidays, for sure. Anything would be better than last year.

Christmas seemed to be a momentous holiday for Taylor, too. It was one she, naturally, went all out for: as soon as the calendar had ticked over to December, she had decorated her apartment for the season. She had a Christmas tree, albeit not a very big one, set up in one corner of the room, covered in sparkly tinsel and delicate ornaments, a string of colourful lights in between. More tinsel was strung up wherever it could possibly go: draped over the bookshelf, along the cabinet the television sat atop, weaved around lamp stands. In her bedroom, she had hung lights along the headboard of her bed, twinkling pretty at night. Her vanilla candles had been replaced with more festive scents, cinnamon and woodsy. She was hoping to find the time to do some seasonal baking, too.

The only thing that seemed to be missing was some mistletoe, but the likelihood of Taylor hanging any of that up was slim. The only person she was interested in kissing was too damn afraid to do it. (Although, he wouldn’t betray the intention of mistletoe…)

There was actually some hanging in the _A.N.Y._ office, just above the door to the break room. Who had put it there remained a mystery, but the playful plant had led to multiple smacks of kisses on cheeks ever since it had appeared yesterday. It was silly, and someone would probably knock it down before Christmas anyway, but it was a bit of fun in the meantime.

“Awww,” Taylor sighed, nudging Harry and discreetly pointing across at a couple to the left of them. “That’s so sweet.”

They were near the centre of the park now, and underneath an old tree with low hanging branches stood a couple, hands holding and lips pressing together in a loving kiss. Someone was standing a few paces back taking a photo of them, capturing the pair in a leafy surround. It was the kind you’d want to keep in a picture frame, one that would make you smile every time you saw it.

“You’re very much a romantic,” Harry observed not for the first time, glancing between the affectionate couple and Taylor’s warm expression.

“I love love,” she smiled, skipping forward and spinning around so she was facing him, walking backwards. “‘If you really look around, you’ll find that love actually is all around.’”

A dimpled grin pulled at his lips as he watched her. “I love that movie.”

Suddenly halting, Taylor’s jaw dropped in delight at him. “No way!”

“Yes way.”

_“No way!”_ She bounced on her toes excitedly. “I love _Love Actually_! It’s one of my favourite movies ever – I watch it every Christmas. Do you truly like it?”

“I love it, actually,” Harry beamed at her cheekily, happily making her laugh at his cheesiness.

“Oh my gosh, how did I not know this about you?! This is the best thing I’ve heard all day!”

“Glad to be of service.”

“You’re so full of surprises! Like a treasure hunt that never ends.”

“And I’m a treasure?”

“You’re a treasure.”

Each smiling at each other, enlivened, they looked nearly as fond as the couple they had just passed.

“We have to watch it together sometime, okay?” she decided. “Before you go, we have to.”

“It’s a deal,” he accepted, holding his hand out to her. Taylor took it and he pulled her towards him, her giggles as they stood close together making him smile wider, if that were possible.

They kept their gazes on each other for a moment too long, until something caught Taylor’s eye and she glanced over his shoulder, rising up on her tiptoes. “Oh my gosh! Look!”

Harry looked back to where she was pointing at another tree behind him. There wasn’t another couple standing underneath, nor anything that he could see that would catch her interest. “What am I looking at?”

“A squirrel! There was a squirrel!”

Letting go of his hand, Taylor hurried over to the tree she’d seen the furry creature in, resembling a little kid as she tilted her head up to try to spot it again. Harry wandered over, smiling in amusement as she circled around the tree to find it. He looked up, too, but he couldn’t see it either.

“You sure that’s what you saw?” he asked. “I’m not sure we can trust your eyes.”

“Hey!” she opposed, laughing. “I swear, I saw a squirrel right on that branch.”

After a couple moments of searching, they finally saw the animal again when it ran down the trunk of the tree. It bounded across the grass and disappeared into some bushes, finding a new place to hide.

“Ha! Told you!” Taylor childishly rubbed in the existence of the squirrel, pointing a finger at him for good measure.

Harry laughed, taking a few slow steps towards her. “Oh, you got me,” he said, and she started stepping backwards, as if she knew he was going to try something spirited.

“Stop it,” she grinned.

“I’m not doing anything.”

Squealing a little, Taylor started running away from him, even though he hadn’t even _done_ anything yet. Their laughter resonated in the cold air, much like the children that had been there earlier in the afternoon, as Harry went after her, chasing after her like he always would.

The wet grass didn’t have her getting very far, though, the soles of her boots not having the tread to grip onto the turf beneath her. Foot unexpectedly sliding underneath her, Taylor ended up completely stacking it, falling hard on her ass with a loud yelp leaving her lips as she embarrassingly went down. At least it wasn’t a busy day at the park with lots of people to see her tumble, but there was Harry behind her, bursting into laughter like the true friend he was.

Taylor was laughing at herself, too, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head back to look at him. He was doubled over, curls swinging either side of his face. “It’s not that funny!” she called out to him, which only seemed to make the both of them laugh even harder.

“Help me up,” Taylor wailed, swivelling around and holding up both of her hands. Harry really should’ve known better, since as soon as he walked over and slipped his hands in hers she pulled him down with a surprisingly forceful tug, his own old pair of boots slipping on the slick grass. He fell forward, trying not to land right on top of her.

They looked ridiculous, lying together in the middle of the grass in hysterics. Whether anyone was judging them wasn’t something they considered, nor something they really cared about. They were the happiest ones right then.

“Oh my god,” Taylor gasped, struggling to catch her breath. “That actually _hurt.”_

That had them laughing more, Harry sliding his arm around her stomach and burying his face in the crook of her neck. His breath was hot against her skin, contrasting the cold touch of his nose. They were so easily close, so familiar and tender. After all these months, all these perfect moments, it just kind of fell out of his mouth when Harry sighed, “I love you.”

Their laughter ceased as the words set in. Harry lifted his head, his eyes daring to lock on Taylor’s. Her blue irises were bright, so clear and so deep that he thought he might just drown in them. He’d told her he loved her. He’d told her he loved her, and it felt like the whole world had stopped, like there was nothing and no one apart from the two of them lying there on the grass in Central Park.

For the millionth time, Taylor’s gaze dropped down to his mouth, and for the first time, Harry made the right move.

Taylor’s lips were as every bit as soft as he imagined. There was a lingering sweetness, tasting of the vanilla balm she had started swiping on ever since winter had arrived. Every single one of Harry’s senses felt suddenly alive as he kissed her – he could hardly believe he was _kissing her._ Out of all the ways he had dreamt of doing it, he hadn’t ever thought of it happening like this. It was better. It was spontaneous and so, _so_ much better.

It was his favourite first kiss. It was just the perfect length, full of the infatuation that had been hidden deep inside of each of them for so long. When they broke apart, they gazed at each other with such wonder, multiplying when Taylor smiled, softly, truly, “I love you, too.”

Immediately their lips returned to each other, enraptured. It was such an indescribable feeling, kissing someone you had been waiting forever to kiss. It was easy to be let down, but not with Taylor. Kissing Taylor gave Harry such a beautiful rush, like everything he had ever felt for her had been bundled up together just to burst into a million glittering stars in this very moment. Very easily he thought he could kiss her until the end of time without it losing its spark. He never wanted to let her go.

For longer than was probably socially acceptable, they lay there kissing like no one else was around. They slowly began discovering each other, testing pressure, letting tongues glide over each other’s. Taylor’s hand tangled in his hair, her fingers feeling so natural in his curls and trailing along his jawline. She was the one who eventually pulled them from their reverie, her lips red and plump, eyes dreamy.

“If I knew you were going to kiss me if I fell over, I would’ve fallen over a long time ago,” she breathed wonderfully, both of them giggling before kissing again. “Can we move? I’m getting wet here.”

Harry snickered as he sat up, knowing what she meant but unable to get past his first inappropriate thought. She rolled her eyes, though she was grinning at him.

“Oh my god, I didn’t mean it like that,” Taylor insisted, taking his hand when he stood up and letting him help her to her feet. Shaking her head, she brushed the back of her coat as best as she could, the fabric damp from resting on the grass too long. Her cheeks were flushed and he thought it too early to make an indecent comment.

“D’you want to borrow my coat, love?” he offered, intertwining their fingers.

“It’s okay, I’ve got another one in my car.”

“Should we go there now?”

There was a short pause, a kind of knowing buzzing between them as what doing so would entail was left hanging in what he didn’t say.

“Let’s go,” she granted.

Their walk to where she had parked her car in a lot a few blocks away was much brisker. Hand in hand, they nearly skipped their way through Central Park, two love-struck youths unable to wipe the giddy smiles off their faces. When they got to her car, Taylor tossed her coat onto the floor of the backseat, Harry following suit before climbing into the back with her, the two of them settling in the limited space and impulsively making out with the doors locked. It was the kind of thing he’d fantasised about; there was a small part of him thinking if he pinched himself, it would all just disappear.

Both sets of legs tangled up, too long to stretch out comfortably, Taylor had ended up lying on top of Harry, his hands roaming her back while their lips moved together naturally. “You’re an _insanely_ good kisser,” she murmured to him, immediately reattaching their mouths so there wasn’t a chance for him to reply. He gave his thanks in the form of a gentle moan, which had her tightening her fingers in his hair and kissing him harder.

Time an immeasurable concept, they eventually prised themselves apart when they heard people getting into the car parked beside Taylor’s. A careless kid knocked her mirror with their backpack, a parent telling them off from the other side. Luckily they didn’t peer inside the car, otherwise that could’ve ended awkwardly.

Once they heard the car pull away, Taylor safely sat up, resting her hands on his chest as she grinned down at him. “I can’t believe this.”

“Neither can I,” Harry agreed, dimples pressing deep in his cheeks. He really had not expected this when he got up in the morning. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that it was a genuine possibility.

Ever since the weekend, though, he hadn’t stopped thinking about what he should’ve done, so maybe it wasn’t quite as surprising as it seemed after all.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Taylor giggled. “I’m kind of speechless,” she realised, dropping her hand back down and carefully sliding it underneath his jumper, cool fingers spread across his stomach.

“Oh finally, I’ve gotten you to shut up,” he teased good-naturedly, laughing when she dropped her jaw and tickled his side as revenge.

“I don’t talk _that_ much,” she opposed, settling her hand back, lightly touching the bit of hair that trailed further down.

“I love the sound of your voice,” Harry admitted, quieter. His words made Taylor blush, and it suddenly occurred to him that he could actually do what he always wanted when she looked at him like that: kiss her. Wow.

“I’ve always loved yours,” she complimented softly. “Yours is so… soothing. Maybe I talk more just so I can hear you talk back.”

“That’s okay with me. I’ve always enjoyed talking with you.”

“You’ve always been a good listener,” she acknowledged gratefully. “Do you want to go get something to eat now? We can do some more of that talking.”

Smiling at each other, Harry nodded, and they set off on their way.

They found a low-key restaurant, a hipster hangout neither of them had been to before. What surprised Harry the most was how _relaxed_ things with Taylor seemed; the whole world hadn’t turned upside down just because he had kissed her. She still chatted with him like normal, only she now held his hand across the table and gazed at him with open admiration. It was like they had been doing exactly this for months, which only seemed to prove how _right_ it was. This was exactly how they should be. Why on earth had he been so afraid to take the chance?

They made it back to their building feeling satisfied with their meals, the Insta-worthy plates that Harry almost fell for, though he had kept his phone in his back pocket where he couldn’t try to be painfully trendy – or try to send any overexcited announcements to anyone who had ever once listened to him say anything about Taylor, for that matter.

Their hands stayed interlocked as they scaled the stairs up to their floor. They stopped at Taylor’s door, and ridiculously she looked shy as she asked, “Do you wanna stay over?”

Harry smiled at her softly. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Inside, they left their things by the door routinely, Harry’s bag and his shoes not at all an unfamiliar sight set against the wall. Olivia wandered up to greet them, rubbing against Taylor’s legs so she was forced to stop in her tracks, and she bent down to stroke her sociable cat. Harry watched on fondly, and when Taylor stood back up with Olivia scooped up in her arms, turning to smile at him, it suddenly occurred to him that he had a place here, that he had for a long time. He’d found a place halfway across the globe that he belonged. He loved it.

While things had seemed mostly normal while they were out, there was an obvious shift between them now that they were alone in her apartment. Not a bad one, but it was different, a little tentative, like they weren’t quite sure where they were going next.

When Harry kissed her this time, it was slow and careful, like she might’ve changed her mind about him since the last time. It was after she set Olivia back down and he brushed her hair away from her face tenderly, his hand cupping her jaw as their lips gently met. Taylor matched his every move, much to his heart’s fluttering delight, her arms sliding around his neck pulling him in closer. She lifted herself up on her tiptoes, certainly not because she needed the height, and instinctively he knew to move his hands to the backs of her thighs, ready for when she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

It felt like something out of every romance flick he’d watched and secretly really enjoyed, carrying her into her room and carefully laying her down on her bed. They settled themselves in the centre, Harry holding his weight so he wouldn’t crush her as he laid on top of her. Taylor was so tall and thin, bones protruding just enough to be noticeable but not concerning, and it was now that he realised just how much broader he was, that he could mistakenly hurt her if he wasn’t careful – in more ways than one.

In the darkness of her bedroom, illuminated only by the light trailing in through the open door they’d passed through, Harry lost himself in the warmth of Taylor’s mouth, of each point where their bodies were touching. It felt more intimate being here instead of out in the open of the park or hidden in the back of her car, like they were only just now truly sharing their secret.

Harry kissed her like he sincerely did love her. He didn’t try to rush anything, didn’t intend on asking too much too soon. He didn’t force anything; only when he slowly ran his tongue along her lower lip, seeking permission, and Taylor opened her mouth just enough, did he let the kiss deepen that way. They filled each other with the softest of sounds, the sweetest of touches, and the passion was there. Not the kind that was desperate and hungry, but that of two people who were crazy about each other and were so awestruck to finally be able to show it.

When Harry broke away after a long while, taking a moment to properly catch his breath, he could see how swollen Taylor’s lips had become, was sure that if they flicked on a light they would be a shade of red her lipstick would envy. He could feel his own exactly the same; it had been so, _so_ long since he’d kissed a girl like this, that every single part of him felt like it had been awoken from a deep sleep, energized and electric and just that bit confused.

Dazed, Harry was proved yet again that he wasn’t merely dreaming when Taylor caressed his face, her touch tender and kind and most definitely _real_. Maybe she was trying to prove it to herself, too: that he was really there, propped up above her and looking down at her like nothing else in the world mattered except for her.

Taylor smiled, that gorgeous, genuine smile that had been pulling at his heart strings all these months, and Harry laughed, just a little.

“I’ve fancied you for so long,” he finally admitted out loud, grinning in wonder as he answered the _what?_ she didn’t ask. “I didn’t think– I didn’t think you felt the same.”

“I do,” she promised him, her smile somehow managing to shine even brighter. “God, I do. I thought I was crazy to think you liked me back.”

“That’s what _I_ thought about _you_ ,” he properly laughed then, the ridiculousness of it all setting in. “I thought I was just, like, wishful thinking. Imagining it, you know?”

She gave a small nod, understanding perfectly. “I made Karlie swear not to tell you. You know she was trying to play matchmaker this whole time, right?”

“I know. I told her not to tell you how I feel.”

“So we were just going around in circles all this time?” Taylor laughed at the realisation. “That’s kind of crazy, y’know?”

“I didn’t really want to kiss you and have you turn me down. Like, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Me neither.”

It felt good being honest. They were finally putting things out in the open, words they had held in for so long, and it felt _really good_. It wasn’t awkward and it didn’t hurt at all.

“I’d rather take a chance than never know,” Taylor was now sure. “I can’t keep pretending I’m not in love with you.”

The only way Harry could covey the enormity of what those words made him feel was by kissing her, a long, meaningful kiss that featured matching smiles. He was never going to forget this. For the rest of his life, he was going to remember the spontaneous magic of this day.

Harry swallowed Taylor’s cute giggles, letting them float in the air when he peppered kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She liked it there; she tilted her head and sighed as his lips trailed over the sensitive skin. “We have the worst timing, y’know?” she pointed out, gasping as he lightly started sucking down on her pulse point.

“Just wanted to make sure you couldn’t stop thinking about me over Christmas,” Harry spoke against her skin, smiling.

“Well I wasn’t _going_ to, but now I’m _really_ not going to,” she said with a laugh, moving her fingers back into his hair as he sucked down enough to leave a small mark, one that would fade away in a day or two. Just something little to show that she was his. God, she was _his_.

Lifting his head back up to look down at her, Harry kissed her lips again before meeting her gaze. “Can I take you out sometime? Before I leave, if we can?”

Taylor nearly giggled. “Like a date?”

“Like a date.” He beamed at the thought. “Is that okay?”

“Well that depends,” she said, her smile turning playful. “What is it like to go on a date with Harry Styles?”

He couldn’t help his laugh. “I hear it’s a pretty exceptional experience. Best dates you’ll ever go on, even.”

Grinning, Taylor leaned up to reconnect their lips, and god, did he want to take her someplace special and give her the best time of her life. Having dreamt about it for so long, the list of places they could go and things they could do was certainly not lacking in any sense. Picking the perfect first date was a task he was overprepared for, and one he was damn excited about, too.

Only, he was kind of nervous, as well. Harry’s apprehension all this time had come from a place of uncertainty and doubt that he was cut out for a serious relationship. More than once he’d been told his attention span wasn’t the best, that without realising it he flicked it on and off like a light switch, confusing the person in question about where they really stood with him. He didn’t want to unintentionally make that mistake with Taylor, but he’d had feelings for her this long, hadn’t he? He hadn’t forgotten her or been distracted, and he didn’t think that was about to change. There was so much about her that he still wanted to learn.

Still, he thought he should set all jokes aside and continue being honest while the moment was there.

“I’m, um. I’ve only really done this with a couple of girls. I’m not really sure I’m very good at it.”

While he chewed a bit at his plump lower lip, Taylor’s eyes softened, hand moving back to his cheek. “ _Harry_. I’m not asking you to be anyone but yourself. I want you _exactly_ as you are.” She rubbed her thumb over his cheek and he smiled at the affection. “You know what the best kinds of relationships are?”

“What?”

“The ones where you can be yourself and the other person loves you for it. It’s all the amazing things about having a best friend, only you get to kiss them, too.”

“You’re my best friend,” he stated slowly.

“And you’re mine,” she smiled back.

They kissed again, and something in Harry’s brain recalled the chalkboard she had sitting on her bookshelf in the next room. Not long back, she had changed the message – _‘You don’t have to say ‘I love you’ to say ‘I love you’’_ – and when he’d commented on it, she’d just passed it off as another line from a song she liked. He’d never made the connection that she had changed it right after he had opened up to her about Jacqui, after that night he had woken up and told her she was his best friend. He’d never realised that every time he looked at her, he looked at her like she was the most extraordinary thing he’d ever seen, like she was his whole goddamn world. He’d never realised that he smiled at her differently, more than at anyone else, or that he unconsciously looked for simple ways he could touch her, whether it was playing with her hair or resting his hand on her back as he stepped around her.

He had been telling her he loved her for a long, long time, and it felt so incredible to be finally able to say the words for real and have her say them back.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Harry’s alarm woke them up the next morning. He fumbled to switch it off, swiping his finger over his phone sitting atop the nightstand, and he turned back over, just like he did most mornings. This time, though, he had Taylor rolling over and cuddling up to him, her face pressing against his bare chest.

“Are you ever going to change that tone?” she asked him sleepily, making him smile a little as he circled his arms around her.

“Probably not,” he let her know. Honestly, he kind of liked keeping his alarm set as ‘Marimba’ if only to bother Taylor.

Last night had been wonderful. They’d spent hours kissing and talking and just lying together in each other’s arms. They didn’t go any further than that: they agreed that if they’d waited this long, they could wait until after they both made it back after the holidays. Taylor’s brother was arriving tomorrow and they wouldn’t have the total privacy to be any more intimate than that, anyway. Harry was just happy to be open with her, really. It didn’t matter that they weren’t rushing it all right away.

With her leg moving over his waist, Taylor pushed him onto his back, settling herself on top of him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the lingering mixture of his cologne and his shampoo. She kissed his skin, slowly moving upwards to trail along his jaw to find his lips. If she was trying to make him want to stay right there all day, she was succeeding with flying colours.

“Taylor,” he mumbled, sighing and lifting his chin as she pulled away to kiss down his throat. “I should get up, love,” he tried to tell her, though his lack of enthusiasm was evident in his voice. This was the best morning he’d had in a long time.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, knowing full well that his answer was no. He never wanted her to stop. He could lie here forever and that would be a-okay with him.

“Not really,” he replied, and she laughed at his candour.

“What do you want for breakfast, babe?” Taylor smiled as she propped herself up on her forearms, her hair creating a golden curtain around them like there was nothing outside of the two of them there wrapped up in her bed.

“My honest answer is too inappropriate for me to say,” Harry told her cheekily, making her giggle down at him, her cheeks pinkening in the dark.

“Good things come to boys who wait,” she flirted back, her tone lowering.

“Isn’t that–”

Harry’s thought was interrupted by Taylor’s lips pressing against his. Slow and sure, she kissed him longer than she should’ve, and neither of them seemed the least bit fussed about the passing time.

He ended up having to hurry, though. When they eventually dragged themselves out of bed, Taylor fixed him some breakfast while he ducked into his place to get changed. Even though they’d parted, he could still feel the heat of her body against his, could feel the smooth brush of their bare skin connecting. He could feel the careful trace of her fingers over the tattoos that decorated his torso, a tenderness so real it had given him goose bumps as he had laid on his back with Taylor resting beside him last night. She had left quite the mark on him, too, a purple-ish bruise right in the centre of his breast bone. Though he hid it under his shirt, knowing it was there was enough.

Eating toast and drinking coffee at Taylor’s dining table had never been more enjoyable. Looking unfairly attractive in only a sweatshirt, her legs looking even longer and the stripy cotton of her underwear visible when she bent down to pick up Olivia giving Harry all sorts of ideas. She sat by him, propping her chin up on her hand while she patted her cat in her lap and gazed at him lovingly with her own cup of coffee. If this was a sign of the comfortable mornings to come, Harry was ecstatic.

“Are you still coming to lunch?” Taylor checked with him before he was out the door. “I haven’t heard from Karlie, but I assume she’s still coming.”

“It’s still good with me,” Harry smiled at her, always one to welcome it when the girls invited him along to their lunch plans. “I’ll see you later, love.”

“Have a good morning, babe,” she wished him, cupping his face and kissing him goodbye like she had been dying to do for ages.

“You too, Tay.”

He snuck one more kiss before he was off, just making it in time for the bus.

 

*** * * * ***

 

All through the morning, Harry was in a visibly sunshiny mood. A spring in his step as he walked in, a stupid smile lingering on his face as he sat at his desk with his laptop in front of him, headphones in and a playlist of very fitting songs filling his ears. Connor stopped by to check up with him about something he was working on and asked him what his deal was, and he’d simply grinned, “It’s a good day.”

With Jared out sick, Harry was keeping his news to himself, apart from the short message he’d added to the group chat with the lads back home. Louis’ response of _‘About bloody time’_ was his favourite, had him chuckling behind his hand.

When lunch time rolled around, he headed out to meet the girls at their usual café. Taylor was waiting inside, her phone in her hand and dressed in much more than he’d seen her in just a few hours ago. Her face lit up when she saw him, and their normal greeting of a hug was replaced by a short kiss.

They saved a table for the three of them near the wall, setting their bags safely at their feet.

“Have you heard from Karlie?” Taylor asked him, fingers tapping against the back of her phone. One of the cat stickers she had stuck to it was threatening to peel off at the corner, curling up just slightly. “She hasn’t replied to any of my messages since yesterday afternoon. It’s not like her.”

“No, I haven’t,” Harry said, fiddling with one of the packets of sugar sitting in a little dish in the centre of the table. “Have you tried Josh?”

She shook her head. “I would’ve called him this morning, but by the time I thought of it he would’ve already gotten to work. I hope she’s okay.”

Karlie was. After about ten minutes of waiting, Karlie bustled into the café, looking incredibly relieved to see the two of them there. As she took the available seat, she plopped her bags on the ground, blowing her hair out of her face and glancing between them with a dramatic pause.

“I never want to go in the Apple Store again,” she announced, hassled and in need of a coffee.

It made Taylor simply laugh. “That’s what _I_ said when I last went in there and the line was practically out the door.”

“I was in there for,” Karlie glanced down at her watch, “nearly an hour and a half, I think. All I needed was a new phone, and something messed up with changing my number over and I had to wait _forever_ to be told just to wait for it to process itself.”

“Wait, why did you need a new phone?”

Fishing through her handbag, Karlie pulled out a very sad looking iPhone and set it on the table for them to see. The entire screen was smashed, dents and scratches on the edges. The pink case she had for it had cracked, proving near useless.

“Josh ran it over,” she enlightened them, and really, they did try not to find that funny, but within seconds the three of them were all laughing.

“Oh my god, _how?!_ ” Taylor gaped at the damage.

“I didn’t realise it fell out my bag when I was going inside yesterday. He didn’t see it when he drove up, and yeah, he ran it over.”

“I hope you made him buy you a new one,” Harry said with a grin, each of them laughing again when she pulled out a credit card in Josh’s name.

Their lunches arrived shortly after they ordered them, the three of them descending into their usual spot of chatter over their midday meals. Harry still enjoyed listening to the two girls, had never really gotten over how sisterly they were, both in looks and their unbreakable bond. He loved that they had each other.

They talked about their plans for the weekend, mostly about what they were going to wear. The girls were headed off shopping after this, hoping to find the perfect outfits for Taylor’s birthday party instead of just pulling something they already owned out of their closets.

“What happened to all the frantic studying?” Harry teased them about their enjoyable arrangement for the afternoon.

“That’s what later in the day is for,” Taylor reasoned, though he wasn’t quite sure she would be getting all that much done.

When Harry had to depart, they each gathered their things to go.

“Can I see you later?” he asked as he turned to Taylor, and she smiled at him, nodding. For a moment, neither of them were quite sure what to do with themselves, whether it was okay or not to say goodbye the way they had said hello when it wasn’t just the two of them around. They both leaned in though, and while Karlie was rummaging through her bag for a tube of lip balm, they gave each other another kiss, a little shyer than the one before.

Karlie’s eyes practically popped out of her head when she glanced up to see the two of them with their lips locked. Her jaw dropped and she was left speechless when they pulled apart, staring at them in awe as if they had just fallen from the sky.

“Have fun shopping,” Harry perkily told them, grinning as he gave Karlie a quick hug she was too stunned to fully return and leaving them to the girl talk that was sure to follow.

He glanced back at them before he exited through the café door, finding Karlie had circled the table to embrace Taylor in an excited, bouncy hug. His eyes locked on Taylor’s and she offered him a small wave. He returned with a fun little blow of a kiss, and he almost wished he could stay to hear what she had to say to her closest of friends.

*** * * * ***

“You hadn’t told her, had you?”

By the time Harry made it back from work that day, Taylor had managed to fit in some studying after she had gotten home from her afternoon with Karlie, and she was more than ready to take a break.

“I texted her to come to lunch early so that I could tell her in person, but how was I supposed to know that Josh had destroyed her phone?” Taylor countered him with a grin as she let him inside. “We practically gave her a heart attack.”

Harry laughed, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her in close. “What did she say?”

“That she’s relieved we finally figured it out. She’s happy we’re happy.”

“I’m really happy.”

“Me too.”

Beaming brightly, it was difficult for either of them to imagine that they’d ever been anywhere near as happy as they were now in the comfort of each other’s arms and their lips pressing together.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

The day Harry finally had an occasion to step out in his impulse bought silver boots was an extraordinary one.

It had been snowing in the afternoon, white slush stuck on the windowsills, but the clouds had given up by the time daylight faded. It was going to be freezing out, but when a celebration was concerned, fashion didn’t always have to be practical.

In ripped skinny jeans that it was a wonder he could even successfully bend his legs in they were that tight, Harry had slipped into a sheer shirt with long sleeves, his tats on full display. He’d showered earlier, treating Taylor to a rendition of ‘Alone With You’ by the Sunnyboys while he was at it, so his hair was fresh and silky smooth, loose curls hanging over his shoulders. Rings on his fingers and cologne on his wrists finished off his Going Out look, the stick of gum he’d started chewing on giving him an air of arrogance that wasn’t even close to true to the man he was.

With a coat on that he intended on ditching later, Harry headed next door to see where Taylor was at with getting ready.

Her brother was the one who answered the door, his eyes scanning him up and down when he opened up. Harry thought maybe he was just checking out his ink – Taylor had invited him over for dinner the previous night so he could meet Austin before they all went out tonight, but he hadn’t taken off his shirt, for obvious reasons – but his question took him completely by surprise.

“Are you telepathic with Taylor?”

“No,” Harry answered slowly, brow furrowed in confusion as he stepped inside.

The explanation came to him when Taylor emerged from her bedroom – rather, she tripped in her eagerness to see him, but she tried to play it cool. She too was dressed in skinny jeans, her favourite black high-waisted pair, and she had a sheer top on, also, black and loose with a solid rose pattern covering where her breasts would be exposed otherwise. Her bra was showing through underneath, and she was giggling as she threw her arms around him.

“We’re the same!” she marvelled excitedly. She had refused to show him what she had bought the other day with Karlie, insisting that it be a surprise – they clearly spent too much time together.

“One of us is going to have to change,” Harry said jokingly, giving her an extra squeeze before letting go.

“No way, this is too cute a coincidence.” Taylor was grinning at him, half her make-up already done. Her blue eyes looked even more stunning with the fake lashes she’d carefully glued on. “We need a picture. Just let me finish getting ready first.”

Harry sat with Austin while Taylor went back to her bathroom, cosmetics spread out all over the counter. They chatted a bit, the two of them getting on just fine. He’d been nervy enough about impressing Austin before, but even more so now that he and Taylor were _together_. She had been right, though: Austin shared her sarcastic sense of humour, was as genuinely kind as she was. It wasn’t hard to like him at all.

When Taylor reappeared a while later, her stiletto-heeled boots tapping on the floorboards, she was done up with her classic red lipstick and her hair sitting free and straight, her waves tamed for the night. She looked incredible, a head-turning kind of gorgeous. Harry couldn’t help but grin at her; he couldn’t believe that someone like _her_ was interested in _him_.

Taylor tossed her phone at Austin and instructed him to take a photo of her and Harry together. She positioned them in front of her bookshelf, the couple of inches her shoes added making her taller than he was. Sliding his arm around her waist, he looked up at her.

“Do you have to wear those for the picture?”

“Am I making you feel short, babe?” Taylor smiled, pointedly kissing his forehead. She left a red mark behind, which she rubbed off with the heel of her hand.

“You _both_ are,” he laughed, glancing at Austin who was taller than the both of them.

“Just look dramatically at the camera for me.”

They took a couple of pictures, just to be sure. Taylor took a selfie of the three of them, the first to mark hopefully many more to come. There was sure to be a ton of photos taken tonight, especially with Emilia around.

They were picked up by one of Taylor’s college friends, a girl the same age as Harry named Maisie who wasn’t a drinker and had volunteered to be a designated driver for the night. After stopping to collect another girl from their class, they headed for the bar they’d organised to meet at. They were first to arrive, and they settled at a decent sized table and ordered themselves some drinks.

Within the hour, their group grew significantly. It was their usual gang (which no longer involved Sam, thank god) as well as some girls that only Taylor really knew, from her first round at college and her current one. They shoved some tables together to form a bigger one that they could all sit around, talking and getting their first taste of alcohol in them.

There were presents for Taylor, with most of those invited unlikely to have the chance to see her again before or on her actual birthday. She accepted each with genuine gratitude, getting up to hug each of her friends tight. It was when she got to the gift bag Emilia passed over that she grew wary, though. Apparently, she had gone a little… _cheeky_ this year.

“I can’t wear this,” Taylor said of the silky white ‘birthday girl’ sash she pulled out of the gift bag. It was sparkly, the writing calligraphic in silver diamontés. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“But think of all the free drinks you could get if you wear it,” Emilia countered, leaning across the table as she spoke up over the sound of the band playing.

“I’m _already_ getting free drinks,” she pointed out, gesturing to the group around her. Everyone was more than happy to buy for her tonight; she didn’t even need to bring her bank card with her.

“But you could have a long line of guys wanting to buy you _more_.”

“Excuse me,” Harry cut in, a friendly grin on his face as he put his arm around Taylor’s shoulders. “I’m sitting right here.”

By now, everyone was aware that Harry and Taylor had finally gotten together. They were offered a few quiet congratulations, the two of them keeping things casual as they sat side by side. They were figuring things out, seeing what they were both comfortable with showing in public. No more than holding hands tonight, so far.

“I’m also here,” Austin added from his spot to Emilia’s left. “I don’t want to hear this conversation.”

“Then cover your ears when Tay sees what else she’s got,” Emilia told him. “Close your eyes, too.”

“Oh, god,” Taylor groaned, tentatively peering back into the bag. “What have you done?”

“All I’m saying is that I bought it before you and Harry professed your love for each other.” They both shot her an identical look that she shrugged off, smiling. “You’ll both like it.”

Setting the gift bag on her lap, Taylor examined the contents, carefully unfolding the blue wrapping paper. She only pulled a fraction of what was inside out of the paper before she quickly shoved it back in, her eyes blowing wide and her face flushing.

“You let me open this _here?”_ She flashed Emilia a look of utter embarrassment. “Oh my god, _babe_.”

Too curious, Harry leaned over and had a peek himself, a cheeky laugh leaving his lips when he saw the unmistakable shape of a vibrator, a pale pink one still in its plastic. He held his hand out across the table, Emilia very pleased with herself as she gave him a high-five.

“Thank you,” he grinned at her.

“You shut your mouth,” Taylor warned him, playfully smacking his chest. “I love you, Em, but you really didn’t have to do this. _Really_.”

“You wouldn’t do anything about it when you needed it, so, you know. Just helping a girl out!”

While she did end up putting the birthday sash on, Taylor kept her inappropriate present tucked away in its bag, keeping all her things safely together. They hung around at the bar for a while, chilling out and snacking before they went to hit the clubs. The band that was playing was pretty good, too – if they finished their set before the gang was ready to leave, Harry was considering quickly going over to sneak in some work stuff while he had the chance. He’d already made a note of their name on his phone and would likely check them out again later.

When they started playing a cover of ‘Tiny Dancer’, Harry got that look on his face, that stupid smile that formed on his lips whenever he was about to say something that wasn’t as funny as he thought it was.

“You know, Elton John doesn’t like salad,” he said conversationally, getting attention of those immediately around him with his odd remark. “He’s more of a Rocket Man.”

Everyone collectively groaned, while Harry gave a satisfied grin at his pun. He’d been told plenty of times to cut it with the jokes, but he was convinced everyone secretly appreciated them, perhaps mistakenly so. At least they liked the way he chimed in with the band, singing lines here and there.

Taylor left her gifts in the boot of Maisie’s car before they headed off to the nearby club. They all walked together, a mob of pretty, underdressed girls and handsome guys filling the footpath. Taylor and Harry walked hand in hand, swinging their arms between them just a little. It felt good, natural. Even though it had only been a few days, he couldn’t picture spending the night with her in any other way.

The club wasn’t overly busy yet, the music just as loud and pulsing as if it were full. A few of them ordered a round of shots before heading out onto the dance floor, where they mixed in with other partiers in search of an exciting weekend. Naturally, their group ended up getting split up, forming smaller circles on the floor and in the seating around the perimeter.

More liquor passed lips, too. They were their normal civilised selves while they were at the bar, but it was always a different story when they went to places like this. It was easy to lose yourself in the lively scene, order a few too many glasses and let the music flow through the body with little apprehension.

Harry could tell he buzzed, yet he still sipped at another glass of cider as he sat with a couple of the guys at one of the tables against the wall, not minding the slightest. A little party never hurt nobody.

Immersed in casual conversation, Harry’s gaze diverted when Taylor appeared closer to the outer edge of the dancing cluster, his eyes always seeming to gravitate towards her like a magnet. She started playing around when he noticed her, giving him one of her dramatic lip-sync performances he was so familiar with by now. A throwback track was playing through the booming speaker system, and she looked amusingly theatrical as she acted out an interpretive dance to ‘Sexy Back’. She was tipsy from a few too many shots, though he was sure she still would’ve done that little flogging motion as she mouthed, _“I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave,”_ at him regardless.

Taylor strutted over to the boys’ table, taking Harry by the hand without a word and pulling him up out of his chair. The guys left shared knowing glances as she pulled him out on the dance floor; he was more enthusiastic about it than some of her past boyfriends had been. Harry wasn’t a good dancer, but he always had fun with Taylor. She was carefree and not in the least bit judgemental, always loving it whenever anyone joined in on her impromptu dance parties that so often filled her apartment.

While they had kept things relaxed over the last few hours, it was obvious now that they were more than friends as they disappeared in the throng of sweaty bodies and they danced with minimal space between them. Harry’s hands rested on her hips as Taylor put hers around his neck and swayed sensually to the JT track, singing along. They joined all of the other couples and flirting strangers in getting down and kissing each other – god, they hadn’t kissed all day and it felt so _good_ to be kissing her out in the open where everyone could see that she was his.

The girls on the dance floor spotted them nearby, nudging each other and grinning when they noticed the two of them lip locking like they had always had a sneaking suspicion they would end up doing. Having the support of their friends was important to both of them, and it was wonderful to have all of theirs on their side.

When the suggestive song finished and Taylor’s flirty fun was momentarily put on pause, she leaned in to his ear, her body pressing up against his as she tried to speak over the next track. “Follow me,” was her instruction, placing a light kiss just below his earlobe as she linked her hand back in his. It sent a tingle down his spine, a sense of what was to come.

The two weaved their way through the dancers, emerging out the other side through to the small lounge area, a couple of couches arranged in squares for those who wanted a more comfortable place to cool down. Taylor pushed Harry down onto one of the unoccupied ones, the fake leather cushions sinking underneath him as he plopped down. She climbed onto his lap and kissed him hard, taking him by surprise at her willingness to be so forward in public. He wasn’t going to dispute it, though; he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back with just as much force, moaning into her mouth as her tongue found its way in his.

It was wild, making out with Taylor under the fluorescent lights of the club. It was intense and that bit inappropriate, their mouths tasting like the liquor they’d been drinking throughout the night. Taylor was pressed as close as she could get as she straddled his lap, and Harry could not _believe_ he was there with the most remarkable girl in the room – in the whole damn _city_ – and she was kissing him like she just couldn’t get enough. Like he was the most exhilarating thing she had ever experienced and she only wanted more, more, _more_.

“Why do you have to be leaving so soon?” Taylor pouted when she pulled back after god knows how long, her forehead pressing against his and her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. “I just want to be with you.”

Harry ran his hand up her back as he tilted his head to catch her lips, her top lip caught between his two. “Come with me,” he breathed, a useless offer that would never go through. “I’d love to bring you home.”

“Promise you’ll take me one day?”

“I’ll take you anywhere you like.”

It was a dream of his to travel around with her, to places he knew and places he didn’t, and apparently it was one they shared, as Taylor kissed him with eager anticipation that had his stomach leaping. They could just take off, get in her car and see where the road would take them, fuel their wandering, creative minds. It was crazy to think that was an actual possibility.

They were broken apart when Karlie and Emilia passed by and whistled and _ooohh-_ ed at them teasingly, the girls sweeping Taylor off for their bathroom break. Harry felt dazed as he wandered back to the table he’d last seen the guys at, his swollen lips still sensing Taylor’s.

His drink was still sitting there where he had left it, half full and waiting for his return. Only Austin and David remained at the table, smiling at him as he returned to his seat. Harry took a sip from his glass as if he’d only been gone for a couple of minutes; it was warm, but he didn’t mind so much.

“You’ve got a bit of…” Austin said, motioning at his lips.

Harry quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling sheepishly. “Shit, sorry,” he apologised, not having thought about the lipstick remnants Taylor had surely left behind in her sudden show of affection. “Really. I know I’d hate to see _my_ sister snogging anyone.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-six. She just had her birthday last weekend.”

“And she’s seeing someone?”

“Are you trying to date my sister?” Harry gave Austin a playful smile. “Yeah, she is, actually. So, you know. It’s a no-go for you.”

Austin nodded, rocking the empty glass in his hand on the tabletop. “Taylor could do worse than you,” he thought, and the unexpected observation had Harry laughing.

“As a fellow younger brother, I hold that great compliment dearly. Can I get you another drink?”

 

*** * * * ***

 

The night was drawn out long as they hopped over to another club, bringing their ~~questionable~~ fantastic dance moves to a new scene. Some were drunker than others – Emilia had coerced Taylor into too many shots and, along with the free drinks she _had_ managed to score over the night, the two of them were probably the worst, a bit unsteady on their heels and giggling at everything.

While some of them called it a night earlier, the last lot of them didn’t start their journey home until well after two in the morning. They stayed safe walking the streets together, leaving no one on their own. A few of the people they passed said happy birthday to Taylor, which she always replied with an enthusiastic “Thank you!” like she couldn’t believe they had even noticed her. Harry had seen plenty of guys looking her way throughout the night, though, whether she knew it or not.

He ended up giving her a piggyback when she complained that her feet were hurting from too much dancing in too high heels. Taylor cheekily covered his eyes with her cold hands, laughing loudly when he threatened to walk the both of them into a wall if she didn’t cut it out. The sound seemed to echo in their surround, and Harry twisted his head around to give her a clumsy kiss that he hoped let her know how much he loved it.

“Please get that out of my face,” Harry politely demanded with a grin as Emilia turned her phone camera onto him and Taylor while they were walking.

“It’s too dark to give you the dog filter,” Emilia whined, as if it had never occurred to her that the night didn’t offer the lighting needed for a good Snapchat.

“Oh my god, he looks so _cute_ with the dog filter!” Taylor suddenly exclaimed, peering over Harry’s shoulder at their camera-wielding friend. “I always tell him he should take more pictures but he never listens.”

“I don’t _like_ selfies,” he maintained. “The world does not need a million pictures of my face.”

“Your face is going to be _everywhere_ , babe. You’re gonna play at MSG and have your face on Times Square. People are going to make Twitter accounts dedicated to you and your adorable face.”

“How disturbing.”

“My boyfriend’s going to be a _star!”_

A ridiculous, face-splitting grin lit up Harry’s features, and even though he wasn’t in a clear state of mind, he completely believed he could do absolutely anything when he had Taylor on his side.

They said their goodbyes before they bundled into separate cars, sensible drivers at the wheels. Tight hugs and kisses on cheeks, their happiness hung in the air, filling the confined space of the car. Taylor kissed Harry in the backseat of Maisie’s Mini, Austin making gagging noises from his spot on the opposite side of Taylor. She simply shoved him, smiling as she didn’t let up from Harry’s lips.

They eventually made it back to her apartment, after stumbling up the staircase, and Harry fell into her bed while Taylor took her make-up off. He watched her attentively when she undressed just beside the bed; the door to her room was never closed, letting the cats have free reign to wander during the night, but it was pushed almost shut so there was a sense of privacy between them and Austin sleeping out on the pull-out couch.

After sliding into her pyjamas, Taylor climbed over to him to get to her side of the bed. She cuddled right up to him once she was under the covers, arms wrapping around each other.

“Thanks for tonight,” she sighed, her voice sounding worn before she gave him a gentle goodnight kiss. “Even though you did copy my outfit.”

The last thing Harry heard before he fell asleep was the sound of her little giggle, a way he wished he could drift off for every night to come.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Why do I have to be here for your honeymoon stage?”

Taylor smiled up at Harry, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger. The two were lying together on her couch, paying more attention to each other than they were to the TV. Austin was sitting just below them on his makeshift bed, and even with his eyes purposely fixed forward, he could tell they weren’t watching the episode of _Game of Thrones_ that was playing.

“Because everyone needs a reminder that love is beautiful,” she believed, her openness of her feelings filling Harry with pure joy. “And besides, it’s my birthday eve eve, I can do what I want.”

“You sound like you’re turning half your age.”

“Do I look like I care?”

It turned out their new solution for a hangover was affection, and lots of it. Poor Austin had to endure their endless embraces, their kisses and the little things they whispered in each other’s ears that had them smiling and giggling. It was cute, it really was, but it wasn’t something you wanted your sibling doing _right behind you_.

They weren’t doing too bad after their night of fun. Harry felt a bit fuzzy, but he was fine after taking the aspirin Taylor offered. She still looked tired even after their many hours of heavy sleep, though she still had a smile on her face despite the headache that she had woken up with. It could’ve been worse, that’s for sure.

“Maybe we should tone it down,” Harry quietly suggested in her ear, and she cheekily shook her head.

“I love this,” Taylor exhaled, and despite what he’d said, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her like there was nobody else in the room.

Harry did feel kind of bad for Austin, though. When he got up to go to the bathroom after the episode ended, leaving Olivia sitting disappointedly on the blankets as her cuddle buddy momentarily left her, Harry offered Taylor a suggestion to favour them all. “D’you want to get out of here for a bit?” he proposed, and she looked up at him in interest.

“What do you have in mind?”

“There’s a little place I’d like to take you. We could get some afternoon tea, if you’d like.”

A smile spread across Taylor’s face at the idea. “I’d love some afternoon tea, thank you,” she replied in a tragic posh impression of his accent, having him roll his eyes.

“Is this what I get for falling for an American girl?”

“It could be worse,” she assured him. “So is this like a date?”

“It sounds like a date to me,” he grinned.

“Guess I should probably go make myself look cute, then.”

“You already are.”

Taylor giggled as he showered kisses over her lips and her cheek and down her neck, the lovely sound emphasising his point. While Harry was grinning, Austin pretended to throw up when he walked back in and saw the two of them so painfully in love.

“ _Relax_ , we’re getting out of here,” Taylor informed him, giving him a playful little kick in the shoulder when he returned to his spot below them. “You can watch your shows and hug my cats in peace.”

“Thank god for that,” Austin replied with an overdramatic sigh, earning himself another nudge in the back with Taylor’s pink sock-covered toes.

While Taylor went to get herself ready, Harry did the same, heading over to his place to change into something more weather appropriate than last night’s outfit and something nicer than the comfy sweats he slept in whenever he stayed with Taylor. He brushed his hair and his teeth, sprayed on deodorant and some fresh cologne. In a way, this was easier than if they had planned it in advance. If they had, there was bound to be more nerves mixed with excitement and at least one outfit change.

Well, Harry might’ve managed to pick his usual pair of jeans and a nice coat easily, but unbeknownst to him, Taylor had deliberated over her entire winter wardrobe before she had decided on braving a pair of thick stockings underneath a skirt and a candy pink striped sweater. They’d mostly be indoors anyway, so the cold (hopefully) wouldn’t get to her too much.

“So, where are we going?” Taylor asked with a smile once they’d made it out to her car. She was in the driver’s seat, as always, Harry never one to ask her to be a passenger in her own car even when he was the only one who knew where they were off to.

Without telling her their destination, Harry gave her the instructions on where to drive thanks to the GPS on his phone. The place he’d found in his search for the perfect first date was a relaxed one, one that was sure to win Taylor over (as if he hadn’t already done that). It was a relatively new place on the lower east side, and he was sure that if she had already heard of it, she definitely would’ve said something. It was the kind of place she would want to tell _everyone_ about, and Harry was ecstatic to be the one to show it to her.

It took them a while to get there and find somewhere to part, the traffic not all that much better on a Sunday than it was on any other day. Harry’s accidental direction of left instead of right didn’t help either, but it was an easy fix of driving around the block to get them back on track.

Walking hand in hand, Harry’s anticipation grew the closer they got to the café he’d chosen. Taylor was looking around, trying to figure out where it was that they were going. They soon stopped right in front, Harry grinning at her broadly as he waited for her to take in the storefront he recognised from the picture online.

“This is it.”

Her eyes cast inside, and he could see the very moment it registered what exactly he had brought her to.

“Is that– Are there _cats_ in there?”

“Yep. It’s a cat café.”

Taylor squeezed his hand, her eyes sparkling brightly. “You’re joking,” she said, though she was looking right inside and knew for a fact that he wasn’t.

“They house stray cats and you get to play with them if you go in.”

Immediately Taylor started tugging him towards the door, the sound of Harry’s laughter following behind.

It was blindingly obvious how utterly mind blown Taylor was. As they stepped inside, she glanced around in wonder at the café, which looked just like any other café except there were cats dotted around, lounging on chairs and climbing gyms and getting hugs from the few people stopped for coffee. She’d never seen anything like it.

They stopped by the counter, where a ginger cat was sleeping by the tip jar, the sheer cuteness of the concept enough to make anyone want to drop a few bills in.

While Harry looked over the glass cabinet of various cakes and sandwiches, Taylor paid no attention to what she might like to eat, too fascinated by the black and white cat that had strolled up and started rubbing against her legs. She kneeled down to say hello, and Harry smiled down at her, catching the eyes of the waitress when he glanced back up. The girl gave him an understanding smile: she’d seen plenty of people like Taylor in here.

“This is the best idea for a café that I’ve ever heard,” Taylor finally declared when she stood back up, the friendly feline now in her arms and looking quite content to be so. “I wanna come here every day. I never want to leave.”

Harry rested his hand on her back, pretty pleased to have impressed her with his choice of location. “Do you know what you want to order?”

“Oh, um, no,” she replied, as if that hadn’t even crossed her mind. She quickly glanced at the cases, while scratching the cat behind its ears and receiving a thankful purr.

“Do you want to go sit down and I’ll surprise you?” he helpfully suggested, and she happily gave a nod.

As Taylor settled at a table, her new friend in tow, Harry went back to browsing the cabinet, debating the delicious-looking desserts on offer. He decided they could do with some chocolate, and he ordered a latte each to go with their afternoon treat.

Surprisingly, when he went to join Taylor at the table, Harry found she had made more than one friend in the short time it had taken him to order: the black and white cat was curled up on her lap, a grey one had appeared beside her on the long booth seat that stretched along the wall that she had opted for, and there was a tabby at her feet. A black cat was staring at her from the next table over, too. It was like she was a cat magnet.

“I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but this might just be the best date I’ve ever been on in my entire life,” Taylor proclaimed when he sat down with an incredulous expression.

“Something tells me it’s not the human company that’s making you say that,” he teased, nodding slightly towards her.

“Look how friendly they are! They’re so cute, I want to hug them all,” she grinned, shrugging a little as she added, “You’re okay too, I guess.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Perhaps this place is _too_ perfect for you.”

Extending her hand across the table, she rested it on his, leaning forward as best as she could without disturbing the cat in her lap. “You’re going to get repaid so good for this. Maybe not today, but soon. You’re going to get the best ‘thank you’ you’ve ever had for bringing me here.”

With the little smirk that formed on her lips, Harry could only imagine what that would entail. He got the feeling that he’d be waiting a lot longer than he really wanted to.

It didn’t take long for the waitress to come over with their lattes, poured into very fitting mugs that had a whisker motif on them. She delivered their desserts on her next trip: one plate with a slice of decadent chocolate cake, and another with a piece of chocolate and hazelnut brownie. Before returning to her post back at the counter, Taylor stopped her to let her know that she thought this was the best place ever and that working here must be a dream. The young girl agreed with a friendly smile.

“You couldn’t work here, y’know?” Harry mentioned as he cut the brownie in half, intending on splitting both sweets between them. “You’d be too busy hugging the cats to get any work done.”

“I want to disagree, but you’re probably right,” she laughed, letting him sort out their plates.

It was a really nice afternoon. They’d done this sort of thing plenty of times before, so it was effortlessly comfortable. The newness to it was their casual touches, the brushes of hands across the table. They knew each other so well, were so familiar with each other that it just felt easy. Entering a relationship had seemed like a huge step, but it turned out to not be difficult at all, a perk of becoming such close friends first.

“You’ve got a bit of frosting, babe,” Taylor let him know, pointing towards the corner of her lips where the chocolate swipe was stuck on his. Harry darted his tongue out, quickly licking it off and unexpectedly making her pout a little. “I thought you were going to ask me to get it for you.”

Poking his finger into the frosting on his half of cake, Harry wiped it onto his lips and grinned cheekily at her. “Can you please help me with this frosting?”

They each leaned across the table, Taylor’s hand resting on his cheek as they kissed, feeling much too sensual for their setting as she ran her tongue over his lips. She looked satisfied as they pulled apart, and he blurted out, “We need more frosting,” before he could stop himself. He was glad he didn’t, as it made her grin.

“I always keep a stock of frosting. And whipped cream.”

“I _told_ you people who like cats are kinky.”

Taylor slapped his arm and they laughed, glad that there wasn’t anyone sitting right near them to easily overhear them.

They spent longer than necessary in the café thanks to Taylor’s new love affair, too attached to the new cats around her. Harry wasn’t sure he liked the black cat beside them, its big green eyes staring them down the entire time they were there like it knew something they didn’t. It was kind of unnerving.

“Can I take them home?” Taylor asked, seeming totally serious as she refused to get up from her spot on the booth.

“You don’t really want them all, Tay,” Harry tried to reason with her.

“But they don’t have real homes. They could have a real home with me.”

“I don’t think Meredith and Olivia would appreciate you bringing them _all_ , though.”

“They would learn to love each other. Or they could move in with _you_ , and then I could still see them all the time.”

“But then who will they have here? They get lots of love here. They make people who might not be able to have their own cat really happy. You wouldn’t want to take that away, would you?”

Taylor shook her head, though he knew she still wanted to sneak at least one of the cats into her bag to take home.

After saying goodbye to each of the cats she had befriended, Taylor left a generous tip and assured the waitress that she would be back. “You’re going to bring me back, right?” she checked as she turned back to Harry, and he nodded obviously as he slid his arm around her waist. He’d be crazy not to.

Outside, Taylor stopped them before they got far, though not because she was reluctant to leave. Instead, it was so she could wrap her arms around her neck and smile at him warmly.

“This was the best date, y’know?” she expressed, and as she kissed him sincerely, Harry knew how lucky he was to have found a girl like her.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

On December 13th, Harry felt guilty for having his alarm wake Taylor when she could’ve deservedly slept in, but that feeling quickly dissipated when he found she had an excitement that resembled that of a young child eager for the day ahead.

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” Harry wished her with a good morning kiss, pulling her close under the covers. He’d stayed overnight on her request, her insistence that he be the first person she saw when she woke up too kind to argue with.

He had already said that to her, though: they had made sure not to fall asleep early, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her phone between them until the clock ticked over to midnight and it was officially her birthday. While it might’ve been kind of lame to do so, it had made Taylor really happy to have him there with her. “The perfect start to my birthday,” she’d whispered after they’d kissed for a while. Hopefully, it was only going to get better as the day went on.

Not so nicely, Taylor woke Austin up by jumping on the edge of his temporary bed. He threw a pillow at her in protest, and Harry got the feeling that it wasn’t the first time they had done this to each other on their special days.

Since Harry was the one who had to get ready first, Austin rose to prepare breakfast, Taylor stretched out on the couch with the company of Meredith, who was offering a tolerance of being cuddled as if she too knew it was Taylor’s day. He got himself dressed and sorted, and in addition to his usual packed bag, he carried Taylor’s birthday present as well.

She eyed him with intrigue when she opened her door back up for him, the rather large box in his arms catching her off guard. He carefully set it down on top of the dining table, slipping down in the adjacent seat while she took the one in front.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” Taylor graciously assured him before she had even touched the neatly wrapped gifts he’d taken care with.

“Open them,” Harry encouraged, grinning as he gave her a slight nudge.

Taylor went for the card first. It was a cheesy one with a cartoon cat on it saying, ‘You’ve got to be kitten me right meow’, the kind of joke that made her giggle. She kissed him after reading the sweet little message he’d written on the inside, and reached for the smaller present balanced atop the mysterious sizeable one.

Even though she worked in a bookstore and could easily source whatever she wanted, he’d still thought she would appreciate the book of poetry he’d discovered in a second-hand shop a few weeks ago. He’d read through it himself, and later she would find small pink sticky notes safely tucked between pages where he had noted the ones he’d especially enjoyed and hoped she would too.

After thanking him, she paused before tackling her other gift. She was uncertain, not having a clue what could be inside, and when she peeled back the floral paper and opened up the box it was covering, her jaw dropped and her hand came up to her mouth.

When Harry had been out perusing vintage shops, he’d stumbled across an old typewriter tucked between an assorted stack of books and a lamp that looked straight out of the sixties. It was in pretty good condition, and when he’d asked the shop assistant whether it still worked, he’d been assured that it was perfectly functional. All it needed was someone who would appreciate it as more than just a paperweight, and Harry couldn’t think of anyone more fitting than Taylor.

It had her eyes misting over and she was shaking her head in disbelief. “You didn’t have to,” she almost whispered.

“I _wanted_ to,” Harry insisted, resting his hand on the small of her back. “Do you like it?”

“It’s _perfect_ ,” she immediately replied, reaching inside and carefully pulling it out of the box to take a proper look. She noticed a stray piece of paper folded at the bottom of the box and she opened it up to find the cheesiest part of her birthday gift from him. Partly to test that the typewriter actually _did_ work, Harry had tapped out a short poem of his own, something he’d drawn from his journal that he’d scribbled down months ago. It was inspired by her – god, at least half of the things he wrote down in there were – and with the ‘H.S.’ he’d signed off with, he really hoped she understood that.

Setting the paper on the table, Taylor turned to him and cupped his face, giving him a passionate kiss that said ‘thank you’ so strongly she couldn’t possibly have thought his private words were about anyone else.

“I love you,” Taylor whispered, just for the two of them. “Thank you so much.”

They extracted themselves from their tight embrace when breakfast was ready. Austin’s pancakes were light and fluffy, the perfect start to the day. Taylor near drowned hers in maple syrup; it was a wonder how she managed to stay so skinny with her sweet tooth and her detestation of running it off.

It felt far too soon that Harry had to go. While he couldn’t spend the day with her, he had called dibs on taking her out later – another surprise location she had been trying to pry out of him for the last few days – and that would be plenty of time.

“Have a nice day out, love,” he smiled at her on his way out, giving her a lasting kiss before heading off.

Instead of going straight up to the office, Harry made a stop at the neighbouring florist, because he really wanted to go all out for the first of her birthdays he was spending with her, especially as it was the first of her birthdays he was spending with her _as her boyfriend_. He picked out the brightest bunch of flowers he could find and signed a card off simply with _‘Surprise, sunshine. H’_. He made sure they would be delivered to her before midday when she and Austin and Karlie were going out for lunch, and he tried not to cringe at the cost of it.

Harry kept his phone in the pocket of his bag while he got to work, keeping his focus as he finished some writing and editing as best as he could. He had been doing well lately with the stricter schedule he’d assigned himself, and he’d managed to get quite a lot done. It was a relief that he wouldn’t have to be stressing over it all when he went back home.

While Connor read over an article for him, Harry took a break for lunch, and he found a message from Taylor on his phone when he got himself comfortable on one of the bean bags in the lounge.

**Text: from _Taylor_  
>>** _Harry!!!!!!! The flowers are beautiful!!! You really don’t have to spoil me like this xx_

Grinning, he typed back with one hand as he chewed on his ham and cheese sandwich.

**Text: to _Taylor_  
>>** _Wait till you see what I’ve got in store for you later xx  
_**> >** _That sounded naughtier than I meant_

She replied a minute later.

**Text: from** _Taylor_  
>> _HAHA I can’t wait babe ;) xx_

After Connor had given him a list of things to rework, Harry was feeling pretty pleased with himself when he finished them off by the end of the day. His hype grew on the way back to his flat, where he neatened himself up for his night with Taylor. He _really_ hoped she was going to like where they were going.

As he had instructed, Taylor was dressed practically when she answered the door to him later. A pair of jeans and a coat, boots and gloves on, she smiled a red lipstick smile at him, looking cute and quite cuddly in her simple outfit. With a beanie tucked on his own head, he didn’t know she was thinking the same thing about him.

With Harry again giving her directions from his phone, Taylor drove them to their destination. She talked about her day on the way, Harry enjoying listening to her tell him about how they had gone to a new café for lunch and Karlie had treated her to a BFF spa trip in the afternoon. He checked out her Instagram upon her prompt and double tapped on her latest picture of her and Karlie wrapped up in fluffy white robes, perched back to back on the edge of an indoor pond and looking nothing less than gorgeous It-girls.

“I feel rejuvenated,” she smiled contently, freshly manicured fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “I think I should meditate more often.”

She did seem to be in an especially good mood, thanks to her friends treating her well and making it known how much they cherished having her in their lives. There was a long list of posts she had been tagged in wishing her a happy birthday, photos and kind comments – she was definitely feeling the love.

Together they walked hand in hand once they’d found somewhere to stop in a parking lot, walking along in the chilly winter air. Harry still wouldn’t tell her where they were going, determined to keep the secret as long as he could. It was worth it: with the sun having set and clouds covering the sky, lights had already started switching on in the city even though it was early in the evening, and the view they had was only going to grow more magical as darkness set in.

It was captivating, the sight of the outdoor skating rink with fairy lights strung up around and twinkling like the stars the clouds were masking above them. With friends gliding around on the ice, parents watching their kids from around the outside, it looked like something out of a movie. Harry glanced at Taylor to see what she thought, and the soft expression on her face was answer enough.

“This is okay, right?” he still felt the need to ask. “We can do something else, if you’d prefer.”

“No, it’s okay. This is so pretty,” Taylor smiled at him. “I should’ve guessed something like this when you told me what I should wear.”

“I didn’t want you to rip your stockings if you fall over,” he explained, knowing she would’ve worn one of her skirts or dresses if he hadn’t deterred her.

“I think you mean _when_ I fall over,” she laughed. “I’m not a very good skater. Ice doesn’t favour my unco-ordination.”

Harry laughed, but he should’ve known she wasn’t kidding. Once they rented skates each from the kiosk and safely stored their things there, they awkwardly walked their way to the gate and Taylor’s eyes widened when he glided his way onto the ice with no trouble at all.

“Oh my god, you’re good at this,” she realised, carefully easing herself onto the rink with him, her hand holding onto the outer rail. “I’m only going to embarrass you.”

“You’re not an embarrassment, love,” Harry assured her, reaching out to take her other hand and help her along. She was cautious on the thin blades of her skates, and she squeezed his hand as she tried to find her centre of balance. “How many times have you done this?”

“Only a couple. I spent most of the time clinging onto the edge every time.”

“I’m gonna get you out to the middle before we leave,” Harry declared with a determined grin.

It didn’t take too long for him to realise that perhaps that wasn’t going to be an easy task. They did a lap of the rink successfully with Taylor holding onto the railing and Harry skating along beside her. He was glad he’d had practice in his teens, he and his friends spending afternoons ice skating during the school holidays. He wasn’t fantastic, but he could go along on his own without losing his balance every few strides.

Taylor wasn’t so lucky, though. When she tried to move herself a bit away from the wall, her arms outstretched either side of her for stability as she went a bit further ahead of Harry, she ended up slipping backwards onto her bum with a squeal. Harry carefully skated around her and held his hands out to help her up, but she turned him down in fear she would just pull him down with him.

She ended up falling down plenty more times, though to her credit, she never gave up. She still went along, trying to teach herself how to skate like he did. Harry didn’t try to show off – he wasn’t the kind of guy who took a girl to something he was good at just so he could impress her – but he did spin around for her and show her that it wasn’t impossible to go around the middle of the rink without slipping.

“I don’t think I can do that,” Taylor said as she leaned against the wall, watching him skate back over to her from where he’d mixed in with a group of kids who were pretty good themselves, zooming around like they wore skates all the times.

“We’re just gonna go slowly to the middle,” Harry attempted to convince her, sliding his gloved hands into hers. “I’m not suggesting we re-enact _Blades of Glory_ , or anything like that.”

“Well thank god for that – my head would very much like to stay attached to the rest of my body,” she laughed.

With trust in him – and herself – Taylor let him slowly guide her further away from the edge of the rink. She wasn’t the steadiest, her hand squeezing his every now and then when she felt like she was about to fall, but she managed to keep herself upright. While it wasn’t the most convenient thing to do, they came to a stop when they eventually reached the centre, and Taylor looked at Harry with wide eyed enthusiasm.

“I did it.”

“You did it.”

Taylor rested her free hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to kiss him, one of those movie moment kisses that would’ve been kind of sickening if it weren’t so adorable, all twinkling lights around them while their cold lips pressed together. The kids playing around them didn’t seem to think it was as sweet as it was, though, with one boy exclaiming _“Gross!”_ rather loudly on his way past them. His friends seemed to agree, but it just had the two of them laughing as they broke apart.

“One day he’s going to bring a girl here and impress her with his skating and she’ll kiss him, too,” Harry grinned.

“I can only hope that they’re as happy as we are now,” Taylor beamed back at him, giving him a gentle hug that warmed his insides.

Before they headed back to the outer ring where Taylor felt safer, Harry insisted on twirling her around, just so she could see what it was like to have someone spin her on ice. She was reluctant – rightfully so, as it didn’t end well: she lost her balance midway through, and since she didn’t let go of Harry’s hand as she started to fall, she ended up pulling him down with him. They landed side by side with a thud on the ice, blinking at each other as they registered that they hadn’t done any damage before they simultaneously burst into laughter. Scooting a little closer, Harry slipped his hand to the back of her neck as he leaned in to give her a long, joyous kiss. If only they could’ve had the ice all to themselves.

They eventually left when their stomachs started rumbling for a dinner stop, and when Taylor laughed that her butt hurt from slipping so many times. Harry had grinned cheekily, pressed her up against the wall as his hands glided down her waist to grab her ass, her jeans a little damp from the ice. “I’ll make you feel better,” he’d told her, failing to sound suggestive thanks to the laughter in his voice.

They wandered for a bit in search of somewhere to eat, Taylor deciding on a burger joint that boasted stellar reviews. It was pretty impressive: they received generous portions that were healthy and delicious, leaving them feeling good rather than greasy. They still had room for ice cream – there was _always_ room for ice cream – and they stopped off at their nearest parlour to pick up sundaes for the two of them, plus one for Austin.

He was thankful when they returned and surprised him with the choc chip scoops drizzled in caramel sauce; he was still relaxed out on his bed in front of the television, Olivia asleep on his lap and Meredith licking at her paw just nearby. Austin had had a nice quiet night to himself, and he knew it wasn’t going to be the same now they were back.

Harry and Taylor climbed up onto the couch together and joined in on the movie Austin was partway through. They sidled up to each other as they delved into their sundaes, trying to catch up on the comedy neither of them had seen before. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard to follow. Disappointingly, it wasn’t that comedic.

“Do you want to pick something to watch?” Austin offered once the credits started rolling, tilting his head back to look up at Taylor sitting behind him.

“Are you sure you want to give me that power?”

“I’m socially obliged since it’s your birthday.”

“Oh, you’re so kind.”

Taylor got up to choose a DVD from her collection, not appearing to have any trouble in deciding. Easily she pulled one out of the cabinet, making Austin groan when he caught sight of the front of the cover.

“Again? Really?”

“Shut up, it’s my birthday.”

Popping the disk into the DVD player, Taylor was grinning as she hopped back over to the couch, guiding Harry into shuffling into a better position for them to cuddle. As the film loaded up on the TV, he couldn’t help his own smile as the title screen for _Love Actually_ appeared. He kissed the top of Taylor’s head, and she nuzzled up to him affectionately.

While they had intended on watching it together on their own, it didn’t matter all that much that they weren’t alone. If anything, it stopped them from getting distracted by each other. They each sat quietly as they watched Taylor’s favourite festive movie; it had been at least a year since Harry had last seen it. In his loved-up state, he found himself enjoying it even more than usual, Taylor resting in his arms making it all the more special.

It made Harry want to take Taylor home with him. He knew how much she wanted to travel – she was excited about going home for the holidays too – and he really wanted to be able to share the experience with her. It wouldn’t really matter where they went, just as long as they were with each other.

Harry talked a bit about London after the movie had finished. Austin wanted to visit there one day too – there were plenty of spots where he could make use of his photographic talent. The siblings listened intently as he spoke, taking note of the places he suggested they someday go. Reminiscing made him glad that he was leaving so soon, eager to go back to the place where he had discovered so much about himself in such an important time in his life.

They sat around talking and sharing stories for a while, enjoying the company. They ate some of the chocolate coconut cake Karlie had baked for Taylor, which was really, _really_ good. Eventually they decided to call it a night, Austin taking his turn in the bathroom before they said goodnight.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Taylor said quietly as she watched Harry clamber out of his jeans. She was pulling her hair back into a little ponytail, using bobby pins to fix her fringe back for when she washed her face. “You’ll just have to promise to keep me warm.”

Brows raising, Harry’s lips twitched up in a small smirk. “What exactly are you showing me?” he asked, and she just rolled her eyes before ducking back into the bathroom.

While she finished her nightly routine, Harry got himself settled under the covers. He liked his side of her bed, the pillow feeling squishier and the blankets feeling softer than his own. It was probably just sleeping beside Taylor that made it all that much better.

After flicking off the bathroom light, Taylor pulled the door halfway shut as usual for the cats.

“Close your eyes,” she told him, starting to pull her top off over her head. Harry’s eyes couldn’t help from lingering on her as she revealed part of herself, and she tossed the warm fabric at him when she saw he hadn’t listened to her. “Close them or you don’t get your surprise.”

He threw her top back at her before making a show of covering his eyes with his hands, being obedient and not peeking through his fingers. He could hear her going through her chest of drawers, heard the familiar sound of jeans being rolled down. Even without looking, he knew that she would be putting her clothes away, always one to keep things neat and tidy.

The mattress dipped when she crawled on top of it, making her way up the bed. Harry didn’t open his eyes until she gave him permission, which was when she sat herself down on top of him and she uncovered his eyes by guiding his wrists away.

What he saw had Harry gasping quietly. Straddling his waist, Taylor was smiling down at him in a satin nightie, a pretty pink little thing with a black lace trim. It had rolled up around her hips thanks to how she had sat down, and before he realised what he was doing, he was reaching out to touch her thighs, hands moving slowly over her especially smooth skin. She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

“What do you think?” Taylor whispered, and immediately he lifted himself up to kiss her, a long, heated kiss that let her know _exactly_ what he thought.

In case it still wasn’t obvious, he slid his hands up her sides, running them up and down familiarly. “You’re so beautiful, Taylor,” he spoke against her lips, feeling her smile as she kissed him back.

“I love you,” she sighed, pushing him down on his back. She kissed him harder, trying to climb her way under the blankets with him at the same time to keep warm when she was now showing so much skin. Harry helped her find her way under, wrapping her up his arms as she laid on top of him.

Kissing her like this was ridiculously fun. He loved the intimacy of it; not going far was actually proving to be quite exciting in itself. He enjoyed running his hands over her in the simplest of ways, finding great fortune in being able to hold her and trail the shape of her body. Slowly, he was learning what she liked, and perhaps it was better that way. They were building up a new kind of trust before they bonded in the closest of ways.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t crave being inside her, though. He thought about it more than he should’ve (though that was hardly new), and whenever they kissed like this, intense for a longer period of time, Harry grew so noticeably aroused. Every time, he tried to ignore it, but that was a difficult feat with their bodies pressing up against each other in various states of undress and Taylor moaning into his mouth every so often.

He was like that now, half hard with Taylor rubbing against him with only minimal friction. It seemed even worse since her brother had come to stay, but she never seemed bothered. She always still kept him close, like she never wanted to let go.

They parted briefly when Taylor rolled over onto her back, Harry immediately following suit and moving on top of her. He brushed her hair aside and began pressing kisses to her neck, what he’d eagerly discovered to be a weakness of hers. It had Taylor sighing airily, tilting her head and tangling her fingers in his hair. His hands sat high up on the underside of her thighs and he bit down a little on her sweet spot, rewarded by the moan Taylor failed to keep to herself. She couldn’t get enough.

Leading a trail of kisses along her collarbone, Harry took the chance of running down her chest to just above the top of her nightie. He was dying to push the thin straps off her shoulders and play with her breasts, kissing and licking and fondling as much as she would allow. As he moved his lips back up to her neck, he slipped his hand up her side and braved cupping one of her breasts, Taylor groaning as soon as he felt her through the satin. Her nipple was hardened and he circled his thumb over the top after giving her a little squeeze, wishing there weren’t anything between her skin and his hand.

Taylor was thinking the same thing. She slid her hands down to the hem of his long-sleeved sleep shirt and started pushing it up, making Harry pause his affection momentarily to tug it off over his head and toss it aside. They kissed again, tongues colliding in mouths with a very obvious call of ‘ _I want you’_. Taylor’s negligée felt pleasantly silky against his bare chest and he rocked against her a little to the rhythm of the kiss, enjoying the feeling of their bodies rubbing against each other.

Enjoying it so much so that he blurted out, “Can I touch you?” before he even realised what he was saying.

A charged silence fell between them. Too caught up in each other, neither of them had thought to switch the bedside lamp off, and they could see each other clearly as Harry propped himself up on his forearms to look down at her. He could see the contemplation working away in Taylor’s mind as their gazes didn’t falter from each other’s, and he felt a sense of selfishness for asking such a thing, even though he hadn’t intended on requesting anything in return.

“I know we said we’d wait,” he murmured quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked, it’s just it’s your–”

Taylor interrupted him by leaning up to steal a kiss, an urgency in it that definitely shut him up.

“I want it too. Don’t think just because I suggested we wait means that you haven’t been driving me _crazy_ all week,” she told him, looking up at him with intense blue eyes.

“I have?” he asked, sounding a little dazed.

“It’s pretty impossible to ignore how turned on you’ve been getting.”

Harry smiled at her shyly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise!” she laughed, trying to keep her voice down. “I’m flattered. And kind of amazed. Mostly turned on, too.”

She giggled again as his eyes widened slightly, and she gently tucked his hair behind his ears.

“I think, maybe, it would be okay if we made one little exception.”

“I’ll do anything you want,” Harry was hasty to let her know, an over-eagerness that made her grin.

“We’d be up all night with that list,” Taylor teasingly told him, still smiling as he gave her another kiss. “Let me show you.”

When Harry rolled off her and onto his side, he watched as Taylor wriggled under the covers, sliding her underwear off and pulling them out from under the blanket. She glanced at him, laughing before she tossed them away to join his shirt. Hopefully, her brother wouldn’t be up before they were to notice them discarded conspicuously.

“Are you sure you want to?” Harry felt he had to ask her first. “I don’t want to, like, pressure you into it if you’re not comfortable.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t take my underwear off for anybody unless I’m sure.”

With a smile curving his lips, Harry leaned over to kiss her, his hand resting briefly on her cheek before Taylor guided it away, over her torso and between her open legs. Slowly, she slipped his hand up higher underneath the hem of her nightie, immediately feeling the heat between her thighs. His anticipation tripled the closer he got, his heart beating faster. As soon as his fingers brushed over her centre for the very first time, Harry kissed her harder, letting out a surprised moan. She was– _wow_.

His fingers were coated with her arousal with just one swipe. He knew she was turned on, but he didn’t realise she was _that_ turned on, and he could scarcely believe that it was seriously _him_ that made her that wet.

Taylor pulled her hand away, permitting him free reign to explore her. Harry started slow, letting them both get accustomed to the feeling of his fingers rubbing her up and down.

He loved getting a girl off. There was something about being able to pleasure someone in the most private of ways that absolutely thrilled Harry. He loved being the reason for someone’s happiness, and he knew that he was good in the bedroom. He knew it for certain now, as Taylor moaned into his mouth as his fingers ran long strokes up and down her slippery centre.

He started watching her after a little while. Breaking away from her lips, Harry watched the way her enjoyment played out on her face, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted to let soft sounds through. He wondered how often she did this on her own, and how many of those times she had imagined it was happening just like this.

Testing the waters, Harry circled the tip of his index finger over her opening, unsure of whether she really preferred that sort of thing. When Taylor didn’t protest, he slid his finger inside her cautiously, wishing it was instead his tongue getting to taste her that way.

“Is this okay?” he checked with her when he began pumping another finger inside of her and it had her biting down on her bottom lip.

Taylor gave a small nod, opening her eyes to him only briefly. “It’s just been a while…”

He didn’t keep at it for long, instead returning to stroking his fingers over her, slow and steady, making it last. Cast in his shadow, Taylor looked so soft lying there beside him, almost dreamlike. If Harry suddenly woke up to find this all a dream, he couldn’t say he’d be especially surprised.

When she started fidgeting, the moans she kept quiet turning more into little whimpers, he knew she was close. She kept rocking herself against his fingers to his same rhythm, finding it all the more difficult when he focused on her sensitive nub. It might’ve been a bit of a selfish, ego-boosting desire, but he was _really_ determined to get her there in the way she’d been lacking. He knew if he played with her like that, he could do it, and he kind of wanted to prove to her that he knew what he was doing, that together they could have a much better time than her last. He wanted to prove that choosing him wasn’t a mistake.

Mostly, Harry just wanted to make her happy in every possible way.

When she sighed his name, he knew he was doing just that.

As she soon reached her orgasm, Taylor tilted her head back against the pillow, releasing a soft, euphoric moan that was quite possibly the best sound Harry had ever heard. Placing a light kiss on her lips, he pulled his hand out from between her legs and popped his sticky fingers in his mouth, licking them clean and giving her a first taste. She smiled at him when she opened her eyes to see him so unashamedly like that, and she tugged his hand away by his wrist so she could lean up and give him an unhurried, deep kiss.

“Was that okay?” he whispered, as if her bliss wasn’t written all over her face and in the way she kissed him.

“‘Okay’ would be the understatement of the century,” Taylor grinned at him, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he gave a dimpled smile back, feeling pretty pleased with himself. “You taste really nice, you know?”

“I’m glad you think so,” she said, cheeks a little flushed, and before he realised where her hand was moving to under the blankets, she was palming him through the fabric of his pants.

“You don’t have to,” he assured her, despite how blindingly obvious it was that he wanted her to keep going. “It’s your birthday, I just wanted to do you.”

Shushing him, Taylor reached under his waistband to pull him out of his boxer briefs. Touching Taylor had gotten him completely solid, and now he was convinced that all this had to be just another of his fantasies as she swiped her hand between her legs to slick her fingers before wrapping them around him to give him one long stroke.

She whispered, “Oh my gosh” under her breath, but Harry was too absorbed in what her hand was doing to respond. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had felt himself up like this imagining what it was like to have Taylor’s hand on him instead, and he swiftly learnt that it was much better. Much, _much_ better.

The only thing he wished was different was how aroused he was. He wanted to savour every moment of Taylor’s delicate hand pumping up and down his shaft, her thumb expertly circling over his tip, but he was spurting pre-come earlier than he wanted to be. God, he had wanted this for _so long_ , and he was very thankful when she squeezed her hand around the base of his member, easing him off a bit so he could last longer.

Harry managed to keep his sounds under control, but he was caught off guard when Taylor suddenly whipped the blankets back and shifted down to take him into her mouth. “Holy _shit!_ ” he cursed far too loudly in the otherwise silence, and she whacked him on the chest to remind him to _be quiet_. She was smiling around him, though.

All it took was some skilful swirls of her tongue for Taylor to push him over the edge. Harry bit down on his hand to muffle the moan that was threatening to reveal the secrecy they were up to, a rush of pleasure sweeping its way through his entire body. His breathing had become heavy and he didn’t quite realise so until Taylor rested her hand over his racing heart, her other stroking through his hair soothingly.

“Was that okay?” she echoed his previous question, and all he could think to do was laugh, eyes fluttering open to her.

“A little _warning_ would’ve been nice.”

“What? I didn’t want the sheets to get all sticky,” she reasoned, grinning at him proudly.

Harry shook his head, resting his hand over the top of hers. “You’re very welcome to stop the sheets getting sticky like that any day.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Taylor laughed as she tucked herself up under his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. She was quiet as he fitted himself back into his underwear and finally flicked off the bedside light, descending them into darkness, their eyes taking a moment to adjust. “Thank you for today,” she said, lowering her voice a little more. “You really went above and beyond. I feel really lucky to have you in my life.”

“You remind me of springtime,” Harry thought aloud after a short pause, and Taylor lifted her head to look at him quizzically at his nonsensical response.

“What do you mean?”

“Um,” he licked his lips, smiling a little as he found her eyes in the dark. He felt light and elated, his mind now resting in a relaxed, unguarded state. “You’re like sunshine. And like, everyone else is your flowers, and you help everyone you meet grow and be brighter. You’re lovely like spring. No one can be unhappy in spring.”

While he wasn’t sure whether he was making any sense, an amazed smile lit up Taylor’s face, and he regretted turning the light off. It was a smile he wished he could’ve seen completely clearly.

“Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before,” she whispered in awe. “Especially not like this.”

“I’ve loved you for a really long time, Tay. I feel like… like if I’m a flower, I’m exploding with too much pollen. The pollen’s the love.”

“That’s not quite as good of an analogy,” she laughed softly. “Thank you, Harry. Thank you _so much_.”

They cuddled up to each other closely, fitting together like they were made for each other. They drifted off to sleep easily, neither of them letting the other stray far in the night, and they both had the best rest they’d had for a while.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Not even two full days later, Harry was sitting in the departure lounge, ready for take-off. Taylor had insisted on taking him to the airport, and she sat beside him as they waited for his boarding call, her head resting on his shoulder and a cardboard coffee cup in her hand. Their silence spoke their reluctance to leave each other.

There were other couples waiting in the lounge, most older than they were. Some looked eager, like they were about to head out on an adventure together, while others stuck close to each other, not wanting to leave each other’s sides. Harry wished he and Taylor were the former.

Finally, the call for the London flight was announced through the loudspeaker. Taylor pulled away from his shoulder and they rose to their feet, neither of them moving any further. She set her coffee down carefully on her seat, looking at him for a second or two before she threw her arms around him, holding him tight.

“I hope you have a good Christmas.”

“You too, love,” he returned, breathing in deeply as he turned his face to her hair. He wanted to imprint the sweet scent that lingered on her in his mind, to keep it with him while they were apart.

“Have fun with your friends.”

“I will.”

“But don’t get into any trouble.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“And let me know when you land. You’re going to be okay getting home?”

“Gemma’s picking me up. We’re staying at her place.”

“Just make sure you let me know you’re safe, okay?”

“Of course. We’re still going to talk every day, you know? And we can Skype, too.”

“I’m still gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too.”

Even though it was the last thing she wanted, Taylor broke away from him, her eyes looking glassy. “You should get going. Don’t wanna miss your flight.”

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, brushing his hand over her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“No, I’m gonna cry if you don’t go now,” she laughed lightly, giving his shoulders a playful shove.

“It’s only two weeks, love. It’ll fly by.”

“I’m still gonna cry.”

Cupping her face, Harry pressed his lips to hers, giving her as passionate a kiss as he could muster up, hoping it would be enough to last until they saw each other again.

“I love you, and I’ll see you again soon, okay?” he told her, Taylor nodding profusely as he picked up his carry-on.

“I love you, too,” she replied before she let him go, not moving from her spot as she watched him go over to join the line for his gate. Harry looked back over his shoulder, and even though she waved at him, he knew she was playing off the hand that had been covering her mouth as she tried not to cry in the middle of the airport. He had a lump in his throat as he held out his ticket to the lady at the gate.

A year ago, he didn’t have a reason to not want to leave for the holidays. Funny how times change.

 

*** * * * ***

It was half past ten at night when Harry finally arrived in London. The flight seemed to drag on forever, thanks to the pair of preteen boys sitting behind him that hadn’t shut up practically the whole way there. One of them kicked the back of his seat occasionally, and it had taken everything in him not to turn around and tell them to calm the heck down, have a nap maybe. The middle-aged man beside him hadn’t been quite so restrained, and although he had been polite in his asking of the kids to please stop kicking and quieten down a bit, their mother had snapped at him and told him to mind his own damn business. They eventually put a movie on that shut them up, and Harry shared a look with his neighbour of pure relief.

Off the plane, Harry’s eyes darted around the always-busy airport in search of his sister. Gemma had never liked crowds; she was much more introverted than he was. He knew he’d find her off to the side somewhere, trying to avoid getting stuck in amongst too many people, and it was like Christmas had come early when he finally caught sight of the dyed-blonde head of his older sister, standing by a decorative potted plant. It had been too, _too_ long since he’d last seen her in person.

Hurrying his way over, matching smiles lit up their faces as their eyes met, the siblings enveloping in a hug as soon as they reached each other. They didn’t have an incredibly close share-everything brother-sister bond, but they got along really well, especially now that they were adults and the friction their age gap had sometimes stirred in their youth was long forgotten.

“Have you gotten taller?” Gemma teased him when they pulled apart, offering that grin that was the same as his own as she looked up at him.

“Have you gotten shorter?” Harry returned, patting the top of her head until she swiped his hand away.

“Nice to know the big city hasn’t changed you. _Although_ …” She pinched the loose material of his hoodie. “I see you’ve been converted.”

“I haven’t been _converted_. I’m showing spirit.”

“For a school you don’t go to.”

“I’ve got a uni jumper in your honour, don’t I?”

Gemma just rolled her eyes; she couldn’t argue there. Besides, he had wanted to wear something comfortable on the plane, and the Columbia hoodie Taylor had gifted him was perfect for that, even if it was a bit cliché.

They started catching up as they headed off to collect Harry’s luggage. It seemed like an eternity before his suitcase appeared on the conveyer belt and for a moment there he worried that it had somehow gotten lost in the masses, that it had wound up on the plane to Australia that had been departing shortly after his, never to be seen again. But then there it was in front of him, stuffed so full he had had to sit on it to get the zip to actually go around.

“Did you bring your entire wardrobe or something?” Gemma questioned, eyeing the suitcase he wheeled back over to her with a raised brow. “It looks like it’s about to blow.”

“If you don’t want Christmas presents, I’m sure I can find someone else here to give them to,” Harry quipped, making a show of looking around.

“Come on, you,” she shook her head, urging him along by the arm.

They made their way out to the carpark, Gemma leading the way through the sea of vehicles. Harry’s gaze was wandering as they walked, familiarising himself back with the last piece of London he had seen before he left just over a year ago. He filled his lungs with deep breaths of air, the same air he’d breathed ever since he had moved here for uni. It was good to be back.

After they climbed into the tiny light blue two-door Gemma had bought second-hand while she was studying and was yet to upgrade out of sentimentality and lack of funds, Harry flicked a message to Taylor to let her know that he was safe. She must’ve been waiting by her phone since her reply came quickly; it was strange to think they were now so far apart.

Gemma’s flat was just as he remembered it. She was on the second floor of an older building on the outer skirts of the city, a basic two bedroom that she shared with one of her close friends. Harry had been over many times over the years when he moved down for school, and while furniture and décor had changed over time, it had the same calm aura that he had always found comforting.

“I’ve set out blankets and a pillow for you. If you get cold, put another layer of clothes on. We’ve still only got the two little heaters in our rooms,” Gemma explained, letting him set his belongings down beside the sofa that was already organised for him. “Did you want anything to eat?”

“Please,” he gave a nod, checking his watch. He had adjusted the time while he was on the plane, but it was easy to work back to the time zone he’d just come from. He wasn’t tired like his watch should indicate, but rather feeling like he should’ve just had dinner. It was going to take some getting used to.

After Gemma fixed him a simple sandwich and gave him freedom to take whatever else he wanted, she retreated off to her bedroom. She had to be up for work in the morning, unfortunately, and he was left alone in the quiet of the lounge.

Harry got himself settled on the couch after finding his pyjamas folded up in his suitcase and getting changed. Swaddled up in the borrowed blankets, the glow of his phone screen shone down on his face as he messaged Taylor back and forth. She and Austin were watching a movie, and she was missing having someone to cuddle with. He was missing it too; there wasn’t a lot of room on the sofa, and it would be nice to be able to stretch out again in Taylor’s queen bed.

It took him frustratingly long to get to sleep, his brain not ready to shut off just yet. Eventually, though, he managed to drift off, and it felt good.

He was home.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“When are you going to cut that ridiculous hair of yours?”

In a strange turn of events, Harry was lounging back in the old flat he had rented with Niall after they had graduated, only now it was Niall and Ed’s place and it wasn’t kept as tidy as Harry had made it while he was an occupant. Louis and Zayn had driven down a couple days after Harry flew in, and they were having the first of their catch ups. They were still waiting on Liam, who was supposedly on his way.

“I think you’re just jealous that you wouldn’t look as good as I do if you had hair like mine,” Harry concluded, looking over at Louis with a cheeky grin. There was goodness in familiarity, even if that familiarity was in endless banter about his haircut – or lack thereof.

“I think you’re just compensating for your lack of facial hair,” Louis shot back at him, running his hand purposely over his chin. There was no way Harry would be able to pull off the short beard Louis had going on. It suited him, made him look a bit more mature than his sharp tongue and playful demeanour otherwise implied.

“I think you two have had this conversation a zillion times,” Zayn cut in, looking between them with a lifted brow. “Can’t you come up with new material?”

“Dunno if he’s capable,” Harry said with a tap of his finger to the side of his head, soon getting smacked in the face with a pillow that Louis fired at him with surprising speed. He burst into laughter – god, he was glad to be back.

While yes, he had made friends in New York, it was never really going to be the same as this. He hadn’t grown up with them, but the lads around him represented such an important part of his life and they meant a great deal to him. Each one of them offered something different, their personalities clicking in such a way that it had made their uni dorm one filled with laughter rather than awkward side stepping whenever they bumped into one another. Sure, they had their occasional arguments, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Even now, when they were all off in their own worlds, they fit together like they still saw each other daily. They were a lot that was going to last.

“We going tonight, then?” Louis asked them, looking eager from the spot he’d scored on the couch. Since they couldn’t go out on his actual birthday – showing up at Christmas with a wicked hangover wasn’t exactly appropriate – their celebrations would have to be midweek, and his anticipation was even more evident now that they were so close. He didn’t go out nearly enough now that he was teaching, and a good night would do him good – do _all_ of them good.

“Don’t think Liam’ll want to party after the drive,” Zayn popped his bubble with a fair point.

“We are _not_ staying here all night.”

“You know where I’d like to go?” Harry spoke, laying down on his back. He hadn’t been so lucky to land himself a seat and was instead stretched out on the carpet. “Nandos. I don’t remember my last Nandos.”

“I’m in,” Niall chimed in easily, the restaurant a favourite of his.

“I haven’t found a worthy American equivalent. Quite disappointing, actually.”

“Take some of the sauces back with you.”

“You’re a smart man,” Harry lifted his head up to grin towards Niall. “You lot still have to come visit me, you know? You won’t all fit in my flat, but you’re still welcome to come squish in.”

“Do you think you’re going to stay there?” Ed asked him, and he just shrugged.

“Probably not forever. But I like my job. ‘s more interesting than what I had here.”

“He’s not going to leave when he’s got a girlfriend,” Louis pointed out rightfully.

“Not unless I bring her with me,” he smiled at the thought.

“Don’t go getting all soppy now. We’ve heard enough.”

“I haven’t even started on my alphabetised list of adjectives to describe her yet. I’ll start with ‘A’, shall I? ‘A’ is for–”

Another pillow whacked him in the head – thank _god_ – and muffled his laughter.

If they kept this up, he was never going to want to leave again.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

The next night became guys’ night, and the afternoon after that, Harry woke up face down on the carpet of his old apartment with a horrendous taste in his mouth. He had a pillow underneath him, at least, but he was totally naked and the dated carpet was itching his skin. How he had ended up like that, he didn’t know, but it likely had a lot to do with the pounding in his head.

Sitting himself up, the only one of his friends still in the lounge was Zayn, who was sleeping soundly with his arm dangling over the edge of the couch. Harry glanced around in search of his clothes, finding what he was mostly convinced were his underpants plopped a few feet away from him. He brought them along with him as he headed for the bathroom, never bothering to lock the door behind him.

After emptying the tank, splashing some water on his face and rinsing his mouth out, Harry took a look in the mirror to see just what last night had done to him, and what he found was _not_ what he was expecting.

He cursed loudly in disbelief, stumbling his way towards the sounds of voices coming from the neighbouring bedroom. “Who did _this?!”_

Three sets of eyes darted to him as he stood there in the doorway, pointing at his hair. Specifically, the large chunk that was missing from the front.

Last night was one long blur. They had started early, arriving at the first joint not long after seven. They had bar-hopped for the rest, jumping between the pubs they had deemed worthy in their university days. How they had managed to stay out until four in the morning on a weekday was a mystery, one he had been too drunk to recall – he was sure the other lads felt the same.

At some point though, scissors had clearly been involved, and Harry was fairly certain it hadn’t been _him_ who had chopped a lock of his hair in half. It was right at the front, right where everyone could see. Ho-ly shit.

It had Louis, Niall and Ed doubled over in laughter. Sure, it was funny for _them_. _They_ weren’t the ones with a weird bit of hair that only came up to just below their chin.

_“Who?”_ Harry whined, sounding like a child in the doorway.

“Oh– oh shit, that’s brilliant,” Louis said in between his laughs, wiping under his eye. “Out of everything, I wish I remembered _that_.”

“It’s not _funny_ ,” he whinged, though he was starting to giggle himself as he entered the room, their amusement contagious. He plonked himself down on the bed with them, squeezing a spot atop the blankets. “Where did we even get scissors?”

“Didn’t Liam find them in the alley?” Ed thought.

“Oh, god, my hair’s been cut with _alley scissors_. I’m probably _diseased!”_

They cracked up again at his dramatics, and okay, it _was_ funny.

With an extra mind now on hand, they tried to piece together what exactly it was they had gotten up to over the course of the night. The one thing they all agreed on was that they had all gotten absolutely, resolutely hammered. The copious amount of alcohol they had downed was hindering their memory of everything else: there was a lot of street wandering, probably quite a bit of disturbance they’d caused. Harry remembered stopping at a park, which unfortunately sparked Niall’s memory of Harry throwing up after an overenthusiastic turn on the swings. He felt sorry for the kids wanting to go to _that_ playground next.

Thanks to the handy digital age, they had pictures and short videos on their phones that showed pieces of the night. Their Snapchat’s were filled with blurry shots of each other messing around at god knows what time at god knows where, probably not making any sense to anyone else receiving them. The best they’d found so far was of Harry, Louis and Niall racing each other down the centre of a road, Niall tripping on the way and falling flat on his face. That explained the scrape on Niall’s knee and grazes on his hands.

Their sleuthing was interrupted by Liam returning to the flat, having volunteered to go grab them all something to eat. Thank god for all-day breakfast at McDonald’s; they shifted to the lounge, where they woke up Zayn so he wouldn’t miss out on a share of the pile of muffins and hash browns, the perfect greasy way to cut through their hangovers.

Harry’s phone was dead when he located the jeans he’d been wearing last night, and as he leaned against the kitchen countertop with a bacon and egg muffin in his hand, he waited for it to power up once he plugged it into Niall’s charger. He had a couple of notifications, and naturally he went for the one from Taylor before seeing what delights were stored on _his_ phone from their wild expedition.

It turned out his message thread with Taylor was one of them.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” he swore, scrolling up through the array of messages he had sent Taylor over the course of the evening. “Whoever let me text drunk?”

“What’d you do?” Niall asked, his words muffled by the mouthful of food he was yet to swallow.

“I sexted Taylor.”

Zayn looked up from his own phone, still looking half asleep. “So?”

“So we haven’t _had_ sex. _And_ I spelt ‘face’ wrong three times. How could I spell a four-letter word wrong _three times?”_

While he cringed over the words he definitely remembered thinking over the last few months but had no recollection of actually typing, he left the details to the imagination of the others. They didn’t need to know, and he wasn’t even sure _Taylor_ had really needed any of that.

“What’d she say?” Niall wondered, having finished chewing by now.

_“‘HAHAHAHAHA I take it you’re having a fun boys’ night. Stay safe, babe’_ with a kissing emoji at the end,” Harry read aloud, frowning down at his phone. “She just ignored it.”

None of them replied to that, until Louis wiped his mouth with a napkin and rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, don’t go getting worked up over nothing. Have you got any pictures from last night or not?”

Switching over to his camera roll, Harry found only a few photos, mostly dark and blurry and of scenes they had already sussed out. He never normally took many pictures while he was out, finding more enjoyment in immersing in the moment instead of getting distracted by a screen.

He sent Taylor an apology for his misguided messages, hoping that he hadn’t freaked her out with his unplanned forwardness. He joined the others back at the table, where they continued their mismatched recollection of their night. With some food in them, they were feeling better, minds becoming a bit clearer. It’d been fun – even though it hadn’t been necessary for them to get quite _that_ drunk. But then again, it had been a long time since any of them had been that reckless, especially all together, and they _did_ have reason to celebrate. Everyone was entitled to some careless excitement every once and a while.

“So. What are we doing tonight?” Louis asked the bunch, and there were collective groans around the table. It might’ve been fun, but a repeat really wasn’t in the cards so soon.

They stayed in, relaxing, and it felt like all the best parts of their uni days again, only they were all a little more put together these days, and they wouldn’t be staying as a group for very much longer. They made the most of it while they could.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

On Christmas morning, the four of them were sitting around the neatly decorated tree in the living room, Harry and Gemma on the rug and their mum and stepdad perched on the sofa of their Cheshire home. The siblings had driven up a couple days ago and were enjoying being back in the quiet town they had grown up in, back with their family and the familiar surroundings. Harry had gone on a couple of walks already, relaxing and clearing his head much easier than during any trips around New York. Being here was exactly what he needed.

Following tradition, they were opening their presents in the morning over breakfast. Harry had just unwrapped a coffee table book of tour photography, filled with performance pictures and behind the scenes shots of a bunch of his favourite bands. It was perfect; he flicked through some of it now with a wondrous grin, before crawling over to give his mum a hug and a thank you.

“It’s a bit heavy for your suitcase, I’m sorry about that,” Anne courteously apologised, and he just shook his head.

“I’ve got plenty of room. I love it, thank you.”

Everything he’d gotten everyone had come from New York, more obviously and not. The touristy things were mostly as little jokes – except for the NYU jumper he had gotten for Louis to give to one of his sisters, something she would actually use rather than the small Statue of Liberty figurines he had playfully given his friends to remember him by. His enjoyment of browsing through vintage and little-known stores had led to him finding plenty of unique treasures: jewellery, trinkets, homemade beauty products, old CD’s and books. He liked picking out things that were a bit different and unexpected for everyone, and they seemed to like it, too.

It was after a delicious Christmas lunch that had them feeling stuffed that Harry got the chance to slip away into his old bedroom to talk to Taylor. His room wasn’t very big, but it was comforting, not much having changed since he was a teenager. Just a bit of straightening out that he suspected his mum of doing ever since he had left.

It was still morning in the US when their Skype call connected, and Taylor was looking soft yet excited as she eagerly greeted him with a loud, “Merry _Christmaaaaas!!”_ It had him laughing, especially as she waved her hands, sitting in her own childhood bedroom dressed in – _yes_ – a red plaid onesie.

“Merry Christmas, love,” Harry beamed back at her, leaning back against the pillows with his laptop sat in front of him.

“Your hair!” she exclaimed, jaw wide open as she stared at the picture of him on the screen. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t think you’d be cutting _that_ much off!”

Ever since Harry had told her about the unfortunate snipping incident that had happened against his will, Taylor had been trying relentlessly to get a selfie from him, but he’d stuck firmly to his stance that it wasn’t necessary. Mostly, it was just embarrassing having a random bit of hair so noticeably missing, and having photographic evidence that anyone could pull up at any time wasn’t exactly favourable. He’d made an emergency trip to Gemma’s hairdresser, who hadn’t judged him _too_ hard while she chopped off the rest of his long locks, now falling an inch or so above his shoulders. As adamant as he had been about growing his hair out, he was actually quite liking the fresh change. His hair felt lighter, his curls curlier – though that was really just because he’d bothered to wash it.

“What do you think?” he asked, fiddling with the neat ends. He cared a lot about what Taylor thought about him, maybe more than he should.

Thankfully, she was nothing but smiles. “I love it! It looks really good. I think I might even like it more now.”

“Thanks. I think.” He chuckled.

“I can’t believe you made me wait so long to see it! The suspense has been killing me,” she giggled back. “Have you opened the presents I got you yet?”

“I waited. Did you?”

Reaching off-screen, Taylor grabbed the packages he had wrapped in candy cane-coloured paper. They’d agreed to keep things small and practical since they were both travelling, yet Taylor had skirted around the rule with the flat but wide gift she had given him. He’d kept it and the other neatly wrapped cube in a plastic bag in his suitcase so he wouldn’t be tempted.

“Do you want to go first?” Harry offered after getting up to get collect his.

“I do one then you do one,” Taylor decided, going for the bigger of her gifts first. She didn’t take long to rip open the thin paper, gasping as she revealed the new colouring book underneath. “Cats!” she cried as she flipped over to the cover, the cute cat drawings immediately catching her interest. “Where did you find this?!”

“In a bit of a hipster shop,” he grinned. As soon as he had seen it, he had known he _had_ to get it for her. It was impossible to walk past it, especially when he knew he was going to get a reaction like that.

“I wish I’d brought my pencils with me now. Maybe I’ll see if mom has some.”

Harry picked up his small present, giving it a joking shake. It didn’t make a sound, and he carefully peeled back the sticky tape to take off the wrapping paper. There was a jewellery box underneath, but when he opened it, he found a guitar pick inside. He plucked it out, reading the writing inscribed on it: _‘I pick you’_. Harry burst out laughing, finding the pun funnier than he should’ve. It had Taylor grinning back.

“You like it?”

“I never knew I needed this until now. Thank you.”

Taylor then unwrapped a bottle of the new Chanel No 5 L’eau perfume that Harry had mostly bought out of impulse when he had been passing through a department store and a saleswoman had thrust a tester upon him. He’d thought it was pretty, and he didn’t think he could _really_ go wrong with a new take on such a classic scent. It took her by surprise, and she opened up the box to spray some on her wrists right away, thankfully liking the fragrance.

The present that had been eluding him ever since she had passed it over to him, he handled with care. Harry unfolded each end of the paper and opened it up cleanly, his eyes widening when he realised what he was holding. “Holy shit,” he murmured, running his hand over the cover of the Fleetwood Mac ‘Rumours’ vinyl, a Polaroid slipping out when he held it up. The picture was of a record player and the vinyl he had in his hand sitting atop it.

“It’s waiting for you back in New York,” Taylor told him.

He looked up at her, stunned. “You’re joking. You got me a _record player?”_

“I’ll get you a new vinyl to play on it every Christmas.”

Leaning back, he shook his head, glancing between his laptop and the unexpected gift in his hand. “I _really_ want to kiss you right now,” he yearned, making her laugh. “Honestly, Tay, you didn’t have to get me this.”

“I couldn’t get you a record and nothing to play it on, could I?” she pointed out with a grin. “We’ll listen to it when we get back. And you can use your new guitar pick to play me some of their songs.”

“I’m so in love with you,” he laughed, playfully blowing kisses towards the screen. He wished she could be here with him, more than ever since they had parted. Spending the afternoon here with Taylor bundled up in his arms sounded like the perfect end to the day.

All they had was Skype, though, and that would have to be enough.

After Taylor opened her last present, a delicate gold bracelet that she gasped over and immediately fastened around her small wrist, they each brushed their wrapping paper aside, both feeling lucky as they settled again.

“Are you alone right now? Like, no one’s about to come bursting in?” Taylor asked him, glancing toward her own bedroom door.

“I should hope not. Why?”

“’Cause I have part four of your surprise,” she said, unzipping the top of her onesie and shrugging it off her shoulders.

_“Shit.”_

“Mhmm.”

Underneath that nice, innocent onesie, Taylor had on a red bralette, a lacy halter-neck that had her smiling in satisfaction at Harry’s obvious desire. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Do you think,” he started slowly after a long moment of silent staring, taking her in, “perhaps, next year, we could have a joint Christmas?”

Taylor laughed, leaning back against her white pillows. “You’d want to… _do stuff_ … with _both_ of our families in the one house?”

“Yes,” he answered definitely, quickly, and she laughed again.

“Why am I surprised? I mean, after the other day…”

When she trailed off, he bit down on his lip, cheeks pinkening in embarrassment. They hadn’t really talked much about the drunken messages he had sent her, aside from Harry’s genuine apologies and Taylor’s constant insistence that it was fine, that she really didn’t mind. He still felt kind of guilty about it, though.

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I… I liked it. It’s just, I’m not very good at that kind of thing.”

“So, you wouldn’t want to, like…” He made some vague hand gestures that she somehow managed to comprehend.

“Oh! Oh, um, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want anyone to _walk in_ ,” she said, adjusting the soft band of her bra. “And I don’t really know how it works?”

“Well, I think–”

There was a knock on his door, and he groaned. Not _now_.

“I’m talking to Taylor,” Harry called out, flashing her an apologetic glance.

“Would you like some tea?” came his mother’s voice through the wall. “We just put some biscuits in the oven, they’ll be ready soon.”

He hesitated for a moment, though his “Yes, please” came easily. He wasn’t going to turn down a nice afternoon tea, especially not from his mum.

“Do you have to go?” Taylor asked, and he shook his head.

“Not just yet.”

“It’s okay. I should see if my mom needs any help, anyway.”

“Just a couple more minutes?”

Those minutes weren’t nearly long enough. They said their goodbye too soon, blowing cute kisses towards each other before they ended the call. That wasn’t the end of their interaction, though: they kept messaging each other all throughout the day, keeping each other informed on what they were up to. Taylor sent pictures too, mostly of her cats (they weren’t getting on the best with her parents’ dogs and had to be separated) and one of her and Austin in their matching onesies, as promised. They really did look cute together.

The rest of Harry’s Christmas was quiet and enjoyable; good food and some board games that they always ended up playing together on the holiday. He’d really missed this kind of family time – he had during university, but even more so now. He knew his mum didn’t want him to leave again, would rather his job was still in London, only a three-hour trip away instead of an eight-hour plane ride. She was trying not to show it, but he could tell.

“I’m so glad you could be here this year,” she told him in a hug before he headed off to bed that night. “It’s not the same without you.”

Harry hugged her tightly, told her he loved her. He was already hating the thought of saying goodbye again, but at least, for now, they had these good days to hold onto.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

With only a few days left here, Harry wanted to make the most of the time he had. He’d stayed over with his dad for a couple days, squeezing in some more time with his mum before Gemma drove him back down to London. Two weeks had seemed like plenty of time to catch up with everyone, but having been gone for so long, it evidently wasn’t enough. Another week would be good, at least, but it was too late to be trying to make that happen.

In the afternoon, he was sorting out some things for work on his laptop in the lounge when his mum appeared, smiling as she sat down beside him, a paperback in her hand.

“What are you up to?”

“Just working,” Harry smiled back, tilting the screen forward as he redirected his attention. “Answering emails and stuff.”

“How is it going?”

“Pretty good.”

He flipped his phone over to check for any notifications, turning it back over beside him when it showed nothing new. Anne was watching him with a knowing smile.

“You’ve been attached to that thing the whole time you’ve been here,” she commented, nodding towards his upturned phone.

“No I haven’t,” he disagreed, the guilty little smile on his face giving him away. He might’ve been checking his phone more than usual, but he had things to keep up with. Emails, Taylor… mostly Taylor.

“How is she?”

“Really good. She’s seeing some of her old friends from high school that she’s still in touch with today; she’s been pretty excited about it.”

“That sounds nice,” Anne thought, running her fingers through his hair tenderly. His haircut had taken her by surprise, but she was used to seeing him with shorter hair anyway. “You seem really happy.”

“I am,” he laughed lightly. “She’s… she’s such an extraordinary person. I’d love for you to meet her. In person, not just through a screen.”

She smiled warmly at the idea, nodding. “You’ll have to bring her here sometime.”

“She really wants to come. She’d love to travel all over here, really. Find new inspiration and the like.”

“Something like that would be good for you, too.”

“You’re just trying to get me back here more,” he teased.

“Well, that would be nice. It’s awfully quiet around here without you and Gem here all the time.”

“I know. But I’m really enjoying being in New York now. Like… I’ve found a life for myself there, you know? I’ve got a job I love, good friends, a girlfriend. I didn’t know I’d have all that when I moved. I made it happen for myself all on my own and it feels _really_ good.”

It hadn’t been a quick start, but once he’d settled in, things had gotten easier. Harry had never truly regretted taking the chance of moving, even when he longed to be back home. If he hadn’t risked leaving everything he knew for a fresh start, he would never have known the life he could’ve had. And honestly? It was turning out to be a really fucking great one.

“I’m so proud of you,” his mum made sure he knew, and he smiled at her, reaching over for a hug. He had always felt loved here, and it was a nice little reminder to hear her appreciation.

“So much has changed since last year. It’s crazy.”

“You’re growing up so fast.”

“Please don’t start crying.”

“I’m not going to.” Anne tapped him on the wrist. “You’re still such a cheek.”

“I’d say it’s one of my many charming qualities,” he grinned playfully.

“You would,” she rolled her eyes – just like Gemma. “You and Taylor are on the same page, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s a bit older than you, are you sure you both want the same things?”

Harry’s smile started to fade; he hadn’t expected a conversation shift like that. It had never even occurred to him that a question like that applied to the two of them.

“We’re not about to walk down the aisle, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied, a hint of defensiveness.

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s never mattered that we’re not the same age. We _get_ each other.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“Taylor’s _not_ like that,” he stated firmly. “I understand where you’re coming from, but it’s not going to happen. Taylor’s a _really_ good person. She would never intend on hurting anyone, ever. She’s _not_ going to do that to me.”

Anne nodded, choosing her response carefully. “What I mean is, your future – you’re going to have to talk about it eventually. To understand what you both want.”

“We haven’t even been together for a _month_. It’ll happen; can’t we just have some fun first?”

“I wasn’t suggesting you have to make it serious right away–”

“I should get back to this,” Harry interrupted, swiping his finger over the trackpad to wake up his laptop. He felt kind of bad, but he didn’t need any more doubts swirling around his head. He had already spent months questioning whether Taylor even liked him that way, he didn’t need to worry about whether things were going to work out long term when things were so new between them.

_“Harry,”_ Anne sighed, watching as he slipped his phone into his back pocket and shut his laptop instead, ready to relocate. “I just want you to remember that you’re young. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you to grow and explore.”

Harry rose to his feet, looking down at her as he tucked his laptop under his arm. “And I’d like to do all that with Taylor,” he declared, and, in true dramatic youth fashion, he paraded off to his bedroom to finish off his work without any more disruptions.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

With only hours before his flight, Harry was spending his last bit of time in a studio with Ed, getting to see what it was like to be an actual working musician. Gemma hadn’t appreciated the early morning wake-up call for the three-hour drive to the city on New Year’s Eve, yet she still hadn’t accepted his offer to drive them down. She never did like letting him borrow her car, probably because he wasn’t the best of drivers even when he did have regular practice.

In the studio, Harry was sitting in on one of Ed’s writing sessions with a couple of other guys he liked working with. It was fascinating, being in a small sound-proofed room with instruments and creative minds, seeing how their ideas came together. He had never done anything like this – when he was in his high school band, they’d mainly just done covers that they practiced in each other’s houses, only dreaming that one day they could be doing something like this. He wanted to soak up as much of the experience as he could.

“You’ve gotten pretty good,” Ed complimented while Harry strummed away on one of the guitars, messing around while the other guys went to go for a smoke and grab some snacks.  

“’ve been practicing a lot,” he said, smiling over at his friend. “’s fun.”

“Are you going to do some of your own stuff?”

“I’d like to, yeah. Just don’t really know where to start.”

“If only you were here longer. You’d be welcome to work with us.”

God, that sounded good. If he was still living here, he’d be jumping on that offer without a second thought.

“Just prop a laptop up and Skype me. It’ll be like I’m here,” he suggested, only half joking.

“I’m looking at doing a bigger tour next year, you know,” Ed told him, flicking over one of the pages of the notebook he had on the table beside him, filled with scrawling of lyrics, some completed and some not. “I’ll need a support act.”

Harry just stared at him, laughing when the implication set in. “What, _me?_ I’m not a musician. The last time I sung in public was at a karaoke bar. That doesn’t count.”

“But if it’s what you want, I want to help you. If you start with a couple songs, we can record some demos and you’ll get signed easy. You’ve already got a foot in the door with me and Niall on your side.”

“Both my feet made it through the door, actually,” he replied, trying to be funny as he wiggled his toes inside his sneakers. Ed just tried not to roll his eyes.

“Would it be something you’d wanna do?”

“I think you’re forgetting I have a job in New York. I can’t just up and leave on a whim.”

“You had a job here and you left for a new one on a whim.”

Okay, he _did_ have a point.

“That’s different. I could get signed and be a total flop.”

“I doubt that’ll happen. You’ve got a good voice. And you’ve got the look.”

He laughed, “What does that even mean?”

“You know what it means,” Ed smiled back, refusing to spell it out for him. “All I’m saying is it’s something you should think about.”

It was something he was going to spend _a lot_ of time thinking about. Offers like that didn’t come around often, and maybe… Maybe it _was_ what he really wanted.

 

*** * * * ***

Later, on his flight, Harry got stuck next to a woman with a baby. His plan to nap on the plane seemed doomed, but actually, he got some peaceful shut eye just fine. The baby wasn’t one of those dreaded criers.

When he woke, he found the little girl staring at him, her small head twisted around to look up at him instead of the tablet screen her mother was trying to keep steady while she watched a film to pass the time. Harry waved at her after rubbing his eyes, making her smile when he pulled a cheeky face at her. He always had liked kids.

The mother noticed he was awake when her daughter giggled as he kept pulling silly faces. She smiled at him, thankfully, and bounced the girl on her knee.

“How old is she?” he asked, voice friendly.

“Sixteen months,” the woman told him, pulling out her headphones and pressing pause on her movie. She looked tired, and with a young child, it didn’t surprise him.

“She’s beautiful. _Aren’t you?”_ he smiled, reaching his hand out and letting the girl wrap her tiny hand around one of his fingers.

“Her name’s Bonnie.”

“What a lovely name. I’m Harry.”

“Maria,” she introduced herself, and Harry offered her his hand to shake after slipping it out of Bonnie’s grasp, who was trying to shove his finger in her mouth.

“You’ve got a very happy baby, Maria.”

“ _She’s_ had plenty of sleep. It always puts her in a good mood.”

“If you want to nap, I can take her for you,” he offered kindly, quick to realise how that sounded. “I promise I’m not a creep, or anything like that. They check these things before they let people have visas. And jobs.”

Maria smiled at him, not appearing put off by his suggestion. “What do you do?”

“I’m a music journalist. I write for _A.N.Y._ ”

“My sister reads that. She buys a copy every month.”

“Tell her I appreciate that very much.”

“She’s going to be very jealous I met you.”

Harry grinned, the thought of that sort of strange to him. “What do you do?”

“I work at a childcare centre.”

“You must love kids.”

“I really do.” She gave a gentle laugh. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two. I’m a good babysitter, I think. I like looking after kids. I promise I don’t have any bad intentions. Just, I know you mustn’t get a lot of sleep with her being so young. One of my friends has a lot of younger siblings, I don’t know how their mum has managed.”

Considering him for a moment, she decided to take a chance on him. “Listen, you seem like a genuine guy. If you wouldn’t mind taking her for a little while, that would be great. I could do with the rest.”

“No worries.”

So Maria passed her daughter over in good faith, giving Harry her baby blanket and instructions to wake her up if she got hungry or needed a change.

Harry spent a couple hours bonding with Bonnie. She was a quiet baby, one who seemed to like having his attention. She smiled and giggled, sometimes tugged on his shirt or his hair (perhaps it was best it wasn’t so long anymore). When he rolled his sleeves up, she patted her tiny hands on his tattooed forearm, looking at him with big brown eyes in pure wonder.

He tuckered her out with little games (she liked peek-a-boo) and eventually she flopped against him, falling asleep with her cheek pressed against his woolly jumper. He kept a hand on her back, not wanting her to fall, and when she did wriggle a little in her sleep, he carefully shifted her to cradle her in his arms more safely and securely. Maria, who slept soundly and got far more rest than she had been anticipating on this trip, was surprised to find the two of them like that when she finally woke. Apparently Bonnie, while friendly, was selective in who she would fall asleep with. It was weirdly gratifying to have earnt the trust of a baby.

Bonnie was awake by the time their plane landed, enjoying sitting on Harry’s lap with his hand on her back as he sometimes bounced her a little and let her ball her fists in his jumper. Harry and Maria had been chatting for a while, getting to know each other in the casual way you did with strangers you were unlikely to ever see again. A bit of a shame, really: Maria, in her late twenties, seemed really nice, and Bonnie had clearly taken a shine to him.

They walked along together as they got off the plane, Bonnie back in her mother’s arms. Harry immediately started looking for Taylor, as did Maria, going by a picture he had shown her of the two of them on his phone. He was first to spot her – trust him to pick Taylor out of a crowd, his eyes always magnetically drawn to her. Taylor must’ve sensed him too, as her gaze quickly found his and her face lit up and she waved at him excitedly.

Harry said goodbye to Maria, letting her know it was nice to meet her and wishing her well. He gave Bonnie a little wave, Maria waving her hand back for her, and he high-fived her tiny hand before he booped her nose with the tip of his finger. It made her giggle, the cute sound he had heard over the last few hours, until she realised he was leaving, and her bottom lip began to quiver and she burst into tears. Feeling immensely guilty, he stopped in his tracks and apologised to Maria, who cradled Bonnie’s head and assured him it was okay, that he should keep going to the girl he had told her about on the plane.

While he had been bidding them farewell, Taylor had moved her way through the other airport-goers and overseen it all. She was beaming as their eyes reconnected, both of them picking up the pace with a spring in their steps until they finally reached each other, throwing their arms around each other and holding each other tight. It felt like it had been much longer since they’d last seen each other than it really was, a great comfort in finally finding each other again.

“You made a baby _cry_ ,” was the first thing Taylor said to him, and he grinned into her hair, squeezing his arms around her waist.

“I made friends with her on the plane. She fell asleep on me. I didn’t know she was going to cry when I said goodbye.”

Taylor pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands coming to his face as her eyes took him back in in person for the first time in two weeks, an extra ray of light in her gaze. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Leaning in, Harry kissed her, a perfect, long-awaited airport kiss where everything else faded away, leaving just the two of them there in their loving moment. It was like something out of a film, and it felt really, incredibly fantastic.

When their lips broke apart, Harry was smiling wide, dimple creasing his cheek. “Let’s get out of here.”

They hurried through hand in hand – as much as you can in a busy airport – and stuffed Harry’s luggage in the back of Taylor’s car, heading to their apartment building with the radio turned up loud. From the passenger seat, Harry watched Taylor fondly as she concentrated on the road, singing along with him to the songs playing through the speakers. Around her wrist dangled the bracelet he had gotten her for Christmas, and he smelled a hint of the perfume, too. She looked _really_ good – spending some time back at home had done her well, just like it had for him.

They didn’t spend much time at Harry’s place. It was getting onto dusk; he hadn’t been able to book an earlier flight, even though it would’ve been more convenient for them. They were planning on going to Times Square for the New Year’s Eve entertainment, and they wanted to get a decent spot.

Harry abandoned his suitcase on his bedroom floor, leaving it to be unpacked later. He intended on getting changed into something a little dressier than he had worn on the plane, but he got distracted by Taylor sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on her hands and swinging her legs. _She_ looked lovely, in jeans and a long cream-coloured coat, her hair in soft curls. They spent a while kissing, messing up the bedspread underneath them, neither of them seeming to mind about that or the passing time. All that mattered was that they were together again.

When they made it to the overly crowded city centre, having spent the whole ride on the tube catching up, they looked picture-perfect, all bundled up in their stylish coats and their pretty faces. They managed to find somewhere to grab something to eat before they scored a relatively decent spot that wasn’t _too_ far back for the New Year’s concert. It was pretty enjoyable – the atmosphere was unlike any other concert Harry had been to, what with the sheer amount of people there watching. It was even better with Taylor close at his side, keeping a hold on his hand as she sang along to the songs she knew and bopped on the spot, her dancing limited thanks to everyone around them squeezing them in. Attending more concerts with her was a definite must (he still hadn’t seen anyone at MSG…).

City lights sparkling all around them, the temperature dropped as the night went on. Harry put his arm around Taylor’s shoulders, holding her close as she slipped one arm around his back underneath his coat, keeping her hand warm with his body heat while her other stayed buried in her pocket. Maybe they were a little more affectionate than usual because of their time apart, but if anyone around was judging them, they couldn’t find it in them to care.

“Look what we’re missing,” Taylor tried to raise her voice over the noise, showing him Snapchats on her phone from the party their friends were all at. It did look fun, just like it always was when they all got together, but he didn’t regret not going.

“I’d rather be here with you,” Harry told her truthfully, and she grinned at him, her nose cold when it touched his face as she kissed him.

They took a picture together to send back, not the best quality but they were all lively smiles. Harry even took one for his own Snapchat, showing his friends back home what he was up to. It was already into the New Year back in England – it was wild to think only hours ago he had been there and now he was in a totally different time zone in such a different life.

Harry also made sure to take a photo of the iconic ball they were there to see, knowing he wouldn’t capture it when it actually dropped. He uploaded it to his Instagram, where Taylor was proudly the first to like it within seconds, grinning ridiculously beside him.

“I’ve missed that smile,” he spoke in her ear, only making her grin even wider, her whole expression exuding pure happiness. He kissed her on the cheek, pulling her in even closer under his arm. He never wanted to let her go.

“I’ve missed hearing your voice,” Taylor told him, her pink lips brushing against his ear, sending tingles down his spine.

“I’ll talk to you all night and you’ll be begging me to shut up,” he laughed, feeling her hand move up his chest.

“Aren’t you tired? You’d probably be asleep by now if you were still at home.”

“I don’t know about that. New Year’s parties can get a bit hectic. I’d probably be getting the rest of my hair cut off.”

Taylor laughed at the thought, trailing her hand up to finger the ends of his curls. “I still can’t believe that really happened. And I kind of feel like I haven’t _really_ partied with you.”

“I prefer not to get shit-faced on a regular basis.”

“I’d be seriously concerned if you did.”

Harry smiled at her, stealing a light kiss on her lips. “I had a nap on the plane. I’ve got the energy to keep you up with my talking all night,” he said, though they were both aware that it wasn’t a whole lot of _talking_ that they were likely to be doing later.

Their anticipation grew as it got closer to midnight. Excitement was cultivating all through Times Square, everyone keen to let go of this year and start afresh. Everyone, with their own lives and loves and goals and problems and resolutions. To be thrust into a new year surrounded by so many people who were just trying to navigate their way through the mysteries of life, just like they were, was electrifying. Like it really could spark a new sense of hope.

With only seconds to go until midnight, there was a loud countdown, the crowd shouting each number with overbearing enthusiasm. The sparkly silver ball dropped from its height as soon as they reached _one_ , a collective sound of exhilaration as it plummeted towards the ground. It was the atmosphere more than the ball itself that Harry was marvelling at – he didn’t even see its whole drop, as he turned to Taylor and kissed her, a breathtaking passionate kiss, holding each other as close as they could, their second movie moment in a matter of hours. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

They hugged each other tightly after they broke away from each other’s lips, smiling into each other’s hair.

“I love you, Taylor,” Harry sighed, needing that to be the first thing he said to her in the new year. He wanted to say it _every_ new year – the thought made his heart leap.

“I love you, too,” Taylor returned, moving her hands to his cheeks as she kissed him again, not for quite as long but just as adoringly. “Happy New Year, Harry.”

“Happiest New Year I’ve ever had,” he laughed, and again her lips found his, the both of them smiling glowingly. Already, he knew this year was going to be incredible, if for no other reason than he had such a remarkable woman supporting him unconditionally. With Taylor around, it felt like anything was possible.

It took them absurdly long to get home. Every train was packed, bodies squished in carriages like sardines. Harry miraculously managed to score a seat, thanks to the door opening right in front of him when they eventually made it to the front of the platform after hundreds of other people, and Taylor perched on his lap, his arms hugging her stomach keeping her steady. She wasn’t nearly as comfortable for him as baby Bonnie had been, yet he still had her giggling as he bounced her a little until she asked him to stop.

It was a slow trip out of the parking lot by their stop, too, but Harry didn’t mind so much. They had the radio on, and when they got stuck waiting at a set of traffic lights, he was singing along, putting on a dramatic performance of ‘Mr Brightside’ when he realised there was a car beside them who could very easily see him. The girl in the driver’s seat wound her window down and he did the same, half singing half laughing to her and the other girls in the car. The friends cheered for him when the light turned green and they got moving, and he called out “Happy New Year!” to them, waving as they turned off into a different direction.

He heard one of them yell “Happy New Year, sexy!” back at him, and he was laughing as he put the window back up, twisting back in his seat. He glanced over at Taylor, who was shaking her head with a smile on her face.

“What?” he beamed.

“There’s nobody like you,” she complimented, squealing as he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, his lips mischievously moving down to her jaw and attempting to get further. “Oh my god, I will crash this car if you don’t stop that,” Taylor warned with a laugh, breathing a sigh of relief when he sat back, wearing an incredibly cheeky smile.

“Sorry, just trying to get an early start on my New Year’s resolutions,” Harry explained, patting his hand high up her thigh.

“You resolve to get us in a car crash?” she asked, trying to ignore his hand and his stare fixed on her so she could concentrate properly on the road.

“I resolve to have sex with you in this car,” he declared, and making her burst into laughter wasn’t exactly the reaction one would expect, but then again, this _was_ Taylor he was talking to.

“You’re just really putting that out there, huh?”

“I thought you would appreciate the forwardness. Confidence being sexy, and all.”

“You’re sexy, babe,” Taylor assured him, reaching a hand out to caress his cheek, glancing at him quickly. “But that’s a resolution we’ll save for another day.”

Harry kissed the palm of her hand, and she smiled as she rested it back on the steering wheel.

When they made it to their apartment block, they slipped into Taylor’s room, not unusually. She had only arrived back in New York a day before him, and it already seemed like she had been there longer, a lingering smell of a cinnamon-scented candle that she had gotten as a Christmas gift floating in the air.

“Ooh, I have something for you!” Taylor announced as she shrugged off her coat, draping it over the back of the couch. She headed for the kitchen and picked up a clear plastic container sitting on the countertop, holding it out to him. “Try one.”

After slipping his boots off and leaving his coat with hers, Harry walked over to her, peering inside the container to see a few coconut-covered chocolate cake balls. He popped one into his mouth whole, a mistake of some sorts as it was a bit too big for that, but it was much too delicious for him to mind.

“’s really good,” he complimented her, words muffled by his mouthful of food, spraying flecks of coconut. Taylor tried to hold back her laugh, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from spitting the whole thing out as laughter bubbled inside him, too.

“I made them with mom. I thought you’d like them.”

“I do,” he replied, still not having swallowed it all yet. He nearly choked when they both started laughing.

Taylor picked one out before shutting the lid back onto the container, eating the chocolatey treat much more gracefully than he did. A shaving of coconut caught on the corner of her mouth, and Harry leaned in to kiss it off, tongue grazing over her lip. She made a surprised little sound, and he smiled as he pulled away.

Not for long, though. Taylor leaned back in, her arms wrapping around his neck as their lips reconnected, a hand slipping up into his hair. Harry pressed her back against the kitchen counter, moaning a little into her mouth as she let his tongue inside.

“You taste like chocolate,” he mumbled against her lips, and she met him with laughter.

“I wonder why.”

Smiling, he kissed her harder, so, _so_ glad to be back. While he had definitely missed this kind of affection with her, it was not having her around as simply a friend to joke around with that he had missed most. This was still new, but their friendship wasn’t.

They were interrupted when Harry was startled by the unexpected feeling of a cat rubbing up against his legs, both laughing as they looked down to find Olivia saying hello.

“Aww, she missed you,” Taylor giggled, and he bent down to pick the friendly feline up, scratching behind her ears and getting an appreciative purr in return.

“I probably smell like other cats,” he thought, having had a bit of a cuddle with both his mum’s and his sister’s pets. There was bound to be some cat hair stuck to his unwashed clothes.

“At least you weren’t with dogs. They hate going home and being around dogs, especially Mere. She basically just hid in my room the whole time,” she said, stroking Olivia’s white fur. “This one hates the carriers. My first lot of scratches healed just in time for her to give me new ones when we were coming back.”

Rolling up her sleeves, Taylor showed him the long red scratches that ran along her forearms. Harry glared at the cat in his arms, who, naturally, took no notice.

“It’s okay,” she assured him with a smile. “For once, Meredith’s the more tolerant one. You can usually just put a treat inside and push her in. She looks a bit angry when she realises she’s trapped, but that’s also just her face.”

“Where is she? If she’ll go in a carrier, I think I can get a welcome back hug.”

They quickly spotted Meredith snoozing soundly on the chair by the bookshelf, a favourite spot of hers. Deciding not to disturb her, knowing it would only put her in one of her moods, Harry stuck with Olivia, who was enjoying the attention he was giving her.

He plopped himself down on the couch, and while he was aware of Taylor slipping into her bedroom, he didn’t think to ask why. He continued stroking Olivia, giggling to himself when the cat rubbed her head against his jaw, purring in satisfaction. It seemed she really _had_ missed him.

A familiar _click_ had him glancing up, where he found Taylor had snuck back in with her camera and taken her first Polaroid of the year, one of him looking all cute with her cat. Harry grinned at her, nodding his head to gesture her over.

Taylor sat down beside him, pulling a black Sharpie out of her pocket and carefully writing the date on the border. “I almost put the wrong year,” she laughed, handing it over to him to have a look. He liked the soft-focus picture; it wasn’t often he didn’t.

“Take one of us,” Harry requested, and she shuffled closer to him, smiling as his arm moved around her shoulders. He held up Olivia, who was often used as a prop in Taylor’s photos, and she snapped a sweet picture of them, marking it with the date too.

“You’re so photogenic,” Taylor sighed, resting her head on his shoulder as she held onto the Polaroid.

“ _Me?_ Look at _you_. I’ve never seen a bad picture of you.”

“You obviously haven’t been looking hard enough. The girls definitely have some, and my mom.”

“My mum’s definitely going to show you all the photo albums,” he realised, wrinkling his nose at the thought. There were embarrassing shots in there, for sure.

“Don’t worry, mine’ll do the same. You really should see how my hair was, though: it was crazy curly, like – you know those china doll’s people collect? Like that.”

Tilting her chin up, Harry smirked a little. “Doll face.”

Taylor smiled back. “Am not.”

“Oh, you’re _such_ a doll face.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she insisted, though she was still smiling as he gave her a convincing kiss.

They sat cuddling in a comfortable silence for a while; simply having the other so close was enough. Taylor remained tucked under his arm, and Olivia fell asleep contentedly on Harry’s lap, keeping him warm. He ended up starting to yawn, too.

“Do you want to go to bed, babe?” Taylor asked, looking up at him.

“’m okay.”

“How long have you been up for?”

“Um…” He looked down at his watch, trying to figure it out with the time zone change. Frowning, he scratched his head. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you need to go to bed,” she decided for him, patting his chest. “C’mon.”

Feeling guilty as he carefully picked Olivia up to move her off him, Harry stroked her head to settle her again before following Taylor to the bathroom. They brushed their teeth side by side despite the lack of space (he had his own pink toothbrush in her bathroom, just as she had a yellow one in his for when they slept over), and after borrowing her brush to neaten his hair, he went to change into his PJ’s while she washed her face.

He was sitting on the edge of her bed when she re-emerged, and Taylor smiled as she stepped towards him, climbing onto his lap instead of changing her clothes. She ran her fingers through his hair a couple times before she rested her hands on his cheeks, kissing him slowly. Harry melted right into it.

“How tired are you…?” she asked him quietly, smiling shyly as her thumb gently stroked his cheekbone.

“I’m good,” he assured her, his eyes meeting hers, an extra little spark in hers that wasn’t just from the glowing lamp on the nightstand. “I’m really good.”

Taylor nodded, considering her next move. “Do you want to maybe… help me get out of all this?” She gestured at herself, his gaze following the wave of her hands. When he looked back up, her cheeks were flushed. God, was she lovely.

“C’mere,” Harry smiled at her encouragingly, and they shuffled to the middle of the bed where he pulled her in close for a long, deep kiss. If they were really doing this, he wanted it to be perfect. He’d waited too long just to rush through without paying attention to the details.

The first thing he noticed was her impatience; it wasn’t something he was exactly expecting. Taylor loved kissing him, but he spent longer than she fancied _only_ kissing him, and she slipped her hands up his shirt in the hopes he would get the picture and move it along. He did: he ran his hands up under her sweater, touching her soft hips and her back as his lips found her neck. It had her moaning quietly, and he reached for the button of her jeans.

Harry loved her legs. He caught himself checking them out far too often – he hated to think how many times _she_ had noticed him looking – and he did so unashamedly now, watching carefully as she rolled her jeans the rest of the way off and tossed them over the edge of the bed. They were so _long_ , always smooth, had paled in the colder months. Unconsciously he licked his lips, and he found Taylor smirking a little when he managed to drag his eyes back up to her face.

“You’re not subtle,” she told him, her voice dropping low and seductive while she reached over to untie his sweatpants. Apparently, she had found her confidence, as she gave him a harder kiss with her hand running teasingly over the front of his pants.

He managed to kick them off and they joined hers on the floor, Taylor climbing back on to his lap. He loved the skin on skin contact, and she must’ve too, as she quickly pulled his shirt off over his head. Where he had stared at her legs, Taylor stared at his tattooed torso, fingers trailing gradually down his bicep. Her light touch gave him tingles, her lustful gaze making his heart race.

When Harry took her sweater off, he literally gasped. He rested his hand carefully on her hip, eyes taking her in. She was bloody gorgeous, for one, but it was her underwear that was catching him off guard. He _recognised_ it.

“Remember?” Taylor whispered.

“How could I forget?” he answered, trailing his hand up her waist slowly, fingers brushing over the delicate black lace of the bralette she had bought that day they had gone shopping together in the city. The day she had looked really genuinely happy since the break up, the day she’d been happy with _him_. He’d made them tacos for dinner that night, and he had always wondered what she looked like in the lingerie she had treated herself to.

Breathtaking. She looked breathtaking.

“What do you think?” she asked him slowly, absently playing with his hair as if she was nervous.

He didn’t reply right away, taking a moment to find the right words. That in itself was an answer: he found her unbelievably attractive, that much was obvious, yet he also wanted to express himself in the right way, so she would know what he felt was true.

“I think… if the world was about to explode tomorrow, and the last thing I ever saw was you, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Taylor tilted her head, a smile breaking out across her face. “That’s the most unexpected thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, starting to laugh. A real, contagious laugh. The laugh he had fallen in love with.

“I was trying to sound romantic,” he defended himself, shaking his head as he tried to stop from laughing too.

“I know, but I just thought you were going to say I was pretty or something.”

“‘Pretty’ is a fine understatement, my love,” he assured her, kissing her cheek. “They invented the word ‘beautiful’ just for you.”

“Just for me?”

“Just for you.”

Their giggles didn’t stop as Harry pushed her down onto her back, propping himself up above her to see Taylor’s radiant smile shining up at him. He showered her in playful kisses, on her lips and over her cheek and down her neck, and she was still giggling as her hands wandered his bare back. He couldn’t stop grinning; it was the best sound he had ever heard.

Harry lifted his head up from kissing along her collarbone, and they took a moment just to look at each other, really properly _look_ at each other. Taylor’s fingers found their way back into his hair, her smile growing softer the longer they gazed into each other’s captivating eyes.

“It’s not normally this easy…” she almost whispered, and he understood what she meant completely. He couldn’t remember a time where it had been anywhere near as comfortable as it was with her.

“You know,” he started slowly, still smiling down at her, “someone very wise once told me being with your best friend makes all the difference.”

Eyes shutting and nose wrinkling in the cutest of her smiles, Taylor giggled again when she looked back at him. “I think that person deserves a kiss.”

A long kiss he gave her, of the intense kind, their hands gliding over each other with familiarity. She didn’t seem to mind that they’d slowed it down again, rather she found it kinder. She wasn’t nervous when she soon pulled her bra off, especially not when he looked at her with such unmistakable admiration when he saw her for the first time.

Harry took care with her, gently cupping her bare breast with his hand, not wanting to be too rough on her to start. He had her gasping as he moved his mouth onto her other, kissing and circling his tongue over her hardened nipple. It was literally a dream come true, touching her like that and making her moan the way that she did, quiet and true. Even when he pulled his lips away from sucking a small bruise underneath her breast, he kept his other hand fondling her as his lips ghosted over her stomach as he shuffled down between her legs.

“Can I?” he asked, glancing up at her seriously. Taylor lifted her head to give a nod, her cheeks pink.

Slowly, Harry slid her underwear down her legs, being careful with the dainty article. He’d dressed up in the hope this was how they would end up, too: he had on his best pair of Calvin Klein’s, trying to impress her, as if he hadn’t already.

Anticipation mounted for the both of them as Harry settled between her legs. Immediately he felt the heat between her thighs, and he knew how she’d feel before he even reached her.

Taylor’s jaw dropped as soon as his tongue made the first swipe from bottom to top of her slick centre. Harry matched her moan with one of his own, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he moved in closer. She was incredibly turned on and it thrilled him, made him want to do this forever.

Keeping it slow, trying not to give in to his over-eagerness, Harry lapped his tongue over her leisurely, exceedingly enjoying living out one of his many, _many_ fantasies. The sounds that came from Taylor were soft and sensual, driving him crazy with every one that left her lips. Her hand tangled in his hair and she rocked her hips just a little against his mouth, wanting that bit more friction.

He loved watching her. He’d learnt that from the first and only other time he had touched her here, and he found that he liked the view from down here _much_ more. He had the perfect view of her lean body, could see the effect each stroke of his tongue and brush of his hands over her sides had on her. It rendered him speechless (not that he would stop his motions to speak, anyway).

The only word Taylor managed to form was his name, and it sounded so gorgeous escaping her lips in an airy sigh. He reached for her free hand and interlaced their fingers, squeezing lightly as he swirled his tongue all over her. Her moan was loud when he started sucking down on her clit and it was obvious she didn’t mean for it to be, sounding surprised. He kept going, spurred on by her moaning his name again, more desperate this time. He had never before heard his name sound so positively alluring.

Harry felt her tighten almost as soon as he snuck his hand under to glide two fingers inside her, his excited moan vibrating against her as he continued working her with his mouth. Taylor’s back arched up off the mattress, her hand tugging at his hair when she was overtaken by raw pleasure, coating him with her arousal. If there was one thing he was never going to forget, it was the way she looked so unabashedly blissful in that moment.

Fervently he licked her, tasting as much of her as he could, and it wasn’t until he finally pulled away that Taylor could properly catch her breath. Harry sucked his fingers clean and wiped his chin with the back of his hand, all around his mouth feeling wet and shiny. He sat up, grinning ridiculously down at her as he watched her come down from her high.

“’s okay?” he asked when she eventually met his eyes, and she just laughed, reaching her hands out and beckoning him over. He crawled back on top of her, where Taylor thanked him with a passionate kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

“I’d like to do that every day,” he announced, making her laugh again as she hugged him closer.

“Please do.”

The next time they broke apart, Harry was going in search of his wallet. Taylor propped herself up on her elbows, watching him as he whipped a condom out (he was always prepared, just in case). When he glanced over to see her looking down, not at the fern leaves tattooed below his belly button, but definitely at the obvious bulge in his pants, the corner of his lips tugged at a smirk.

“Hey!” She shook her head when he flung the metallic wrapper at her, picking it up from where it bounced off her hip and tearing the edge open with her teeth, an unexpectedly sexy action.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her curiously, dropping his wallet back down on top of their pile of clothes. One of the cats might get into it during the night, but he really didn’t care about anything other than Taylor right then.

“That, for someone who is so confident without clothes, I was expecting you to take those off ages ago,” she told him, gesturing vaguely at his underwear before she discarded the wrapper on the nightstand on her side. He dropped his Calvin’s so quickly she was visibly taken aback when her eyes landed back on him, standing there totally naked and very, _very_ hard. “Holy shit, _Harry_.”

“What?” he laughed as he climbed back onto the bed. Taylor just stared at him, jaw slack as she watched him ease himself off with a pinch to the base of his cock before slipping on the protection she handed back over to him.

When he moved back on top of her, Harry was very careful when he lined himself up and slowly, finally, pushed himself inside of her. Taylor cursed under her breath and he kissed her lightly, eyes scanning her face once he was all the way.

“Okay?” he checked softly.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah, just– slow, please?”

Harry was always going to take care of her. After giving her a moment to adjust to the new feeling of him inside her, he started moving unhurriedly, finding an easy rhythm. Taylor wrapped her arms around him, embracing him closer as their bodies flowed together so naturally, like they’d done this a million times before. Like they were _made for each other_ , he dreamily thought, catching himself by surprise at how fucking madly _in love_ he was.

It wasn’t ever normally like this for him. He was used to fleeting flings, hook ups that didn’t mean anything with girls who just thought he was attractive – not this. Not sharing something so intimate that actually _felt_ every bit as intimate as it was, his senses sparking at every place their bodies were connecting. Not where he felt a rush of devotion when the woman underneath him kissed him. It was so wonderfully, perfectly different.

It wasn’t the world that was going to explode. It was his heart, into a million magical, passionate, euphoric stars.

“You feel _incredible_ , Tay,” Harry spoke lowly to her, his plump lips brushing against hers. Taylor wrapped a leg around his waist, a soft sound leaving her with every one of his deep, steady thrusts.

“So do you,” she exhaled, nipping lightly on his bottom lip. It had him groaning quietly.

They were gentle and tender, taking their time in exploring each other. Harry loved every trail of Taylor’s hands along his back and shoulders, the light graze of her short fingernails against his bare skin. He knew her nails were painted red, her favourite rich red polish that was just a little glittery, and it was such a tiny detail that didn’t really matter, yet it showed just how much attention he paid to _all_ of her.

Their soft moans began to grow as the intensity built up inside of them. Taylor tangled her hand back in his hair when he started grinding his hips against hers, offering her more of the friction she liked while the feeling of her walls rubbing all around him edged him closer. He wasn’t even entirely sure he could get her there like this, not when he knew she’d had to fake it before, but the confidence he had always had about it wasn’t misplaced: he was absolutely certain Taylor wasn’t pretending when her head tilted back against the pillow and she emitted such an elated moan, her body pressing up against his as if they weren’t close enough already.

Riding her through it, a few quick thrusts was it all it took for Harry to join her in ecstasy, a louder moan rumbling out of him as he felt it rush all through him. He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck, breathing in a mix of her perfume and shampoo as her hair tickled his face. God. _God_. That was even better than he could’ve imagined. It was _real_. Holy shit, he couldn’t believe it.

He felt Taylor’s lips pressing to his shoulder after she brushed his hair away, soothing little kisses against his skin. He rolled off of her, sorting himself with wrapping the condom up in a tissue that he left on the nightstand, before he returned to her, enveloping her in a whole-body hug, warm and loving.

“You’re extraordinary, Taylor,” Harry whispered into her hair, stroking her back idly. She sighed, smiling against his chest.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They settled underneath the blankets, Taylor nestling herself up underneath his arm. Her fingers circled over his chest calmingly, the gentle motion relaxing him completely as he laid on his back.

“Tay?”

“Yeah?”

“This has been the best New Year’s ever,” he told her, voice soft and already laced with sleepiness. Taylor giggled, lifting her head to give him one more kiss.

Harry fell right to sleep, the feeling of her lips lingering on his, and he had wholehearted hope that this year was going to be a remarkable one.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

The first day of the year was a soft one. Harry woke up with Taylor’s arm slung around him, cuddling up behind him where they had shifted in the night and he had ended up on his side. Gently he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing her fingers lightly, unsure whether she was still asleep or not.

Taylor propped herself up, smiling at him when he turned onto his back as he sensed her movement; it wasn’t unusual that she woke up a bit before him when they got the chance to sleep in. “Good morning,” she greeted him quietly, sweeping his hair out of his face for him.

“Morning, beautiful,” he replied sleepily, a lazy smile curving his lips as he leaned into her warm, gentle hand. He loved waking up beside her; she was always so kind.

“Sleep well?” she asked, and he hummed a yes.

“Like a baby.”

Smiling, Taylor leaned in to kiss him, her lips lightly brushing against his. “My baby,” she murmured, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her on top of him.

“I’m all yours,” he professed, a sleepy truth. He’d been hers for a long time, longer than she knew. He’d do anything for her. If she wanted a star, he’d find a way to give her the whole damn sky. After all, she deserved nothing less than someone who would just love and love her for everything she was.

Their kisses were light, on lips and jaws and necks. Taylor soon guided him inside of her and slowly rocked herself on top of him, making him think that perhaps he was still asleep after all, because lazy morning sex with her felt like a perfect dream.

She sounded just as soft and sweet as she had last night, maybe even more so. Her breath was warm against his neck, her lips brushing against his skin as they came one after the other. Harry hugged her body close and she stroked his hair, kissing him tenderly as if making sure he knew she loved him. As if he might’ve forgotten since she last kissed him moments ago, even for the slightest of seconds.

Taylor laid on top of him for a long while, resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the calming way he ran his fingers up and down her back. Neither of them wanted to move: out from under the covers, they were bound to get cold, and they preferred being in each other’s arms, anyway. They had nothing else to do today but be with each other.

Grumbling stomachs had them getting up eventually, though. Taylor slipped into a clean pair of underwear and pulled his long-sleeved shirt on, sure that he wasn’t going to wear it, before she ducked into the bathroom. Harry remained in bed until she headed for the kitchen, meandering in her footsteps, not bothering with clothes until his temperature inevitably dropped. It felt natural to him, though it took Taylor by surprise when he appeared behind her in the kitchen, resting his hands on her hips.

“What are you making?” he asked, peering over her shoulder at the ingredients she had spread out on the countertop: eggs, butter, cheese, tomatoes.

“Breakfast,” Taylor replied dryly, smirking as she felt his hands run up her sides.

“Smart arse,” he chuckled, kissing her cheek as he moved his hand back down over her bum. “ _Great_ arse.”

Trying not to laugh, she bumped him with her elbow. “Go back to bed.”

“Can I make a cuppa first?” Harry smiled, hand slipping down between her legs and rubbing her inner thigh, purposely teasing her.

“I don’t see why not,” she tried to sound nonchalant, but she broke into giggles when his fingers skimmed over her underwear. “Oh my god, let me make breakfast first!”

Harry just grinned as he stepped away from her, going about fixing two cups of tea further down the bench. He leaned against the counter while the kettle boiled, watching Taylor go back to cracking eggs into a bowl without distraction. Well, almost: it was hard to pretend he wasn’t standing there staring at her, especially when he was so confidently not wearing a single thing.

“What?” he smiled at her when she glanced his way, shaking her head.

“When we met, I never thought I would end up seeing you naked in my kitchen,” she said, the both of them laughing. They’d come a long way since she joined in with his shower singing, that’s for sure.

“I can’t say I didn’t hope we’d end up like this,” he admitted, and before he turned to pour the boiling water into the mugs he’d set out, he noticed her blush.

“Really? I mean, did you really think those kinds of things that early on?”

“Course. I would’ve tried to flirt with you when we met, if it was an option.”

“ _Tried_ ,” Taylor teased, and he rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“But you totally did try to flirt with me! You can’t pretend that you didn’t.”

“I might’ve been a little more charming with you, but I never had the intention of stealing you away for myself. I only wanted to be with you if it was right.”

Taylor smiled. “You know, I’m really glad it happened this way. I’ve rushed into relationships before only to be disappointed, but with you… I already _know_ you. I feel like we’re in a really good place because we already know so much about each other and we _know_ we connect.” She glanced at him, watching him stir sugar into one of the patterned mugs. “And because you already know how I am, you don’t find it weird that I’m saying all this when it hasn’t even been all that long.”

“Oh, I find you weird, just not for that reason,” he playfully replied, and she laughed at him, waving her hand emphatically.

“That’s exactly what I mean! You get me! And you _still_ want to be with me.”

“You’re much more than just a pretty face, my love.”

Putting away the milk carton and leaving the spoon in the sink, Harry picked up both mugs and left one within Taylor’s reach but out of the way of her preparation, made just how she liked it. He kissed her on the cheek, ran his hand over her back as he added, “So much more,” in a quiet tone. He headed back to bed, scooping up a cat along the way, and warmed back up under the blankets with his tea and Olivia curled up on top of him.

This was exactly the kind of romance he wanted to find himself in.

When Taylor appeared with a plate and cutlery in hand, Harry set his phone back on the nightstand, leaving his perusing of social media in favour of the freshly made omelette she had whipped up. He thanked her, and she was smiling as she went back to get her own.

Together they ate breakfast in bed, the perfect way to have their first meal of the year. They balanced plates precariously on their laps, burst into a fit of laughter when Harry was too busy looking at Taylor as she was talking that he didn’t notice Olivia had snuck up to sniff at his food until she had already taken a bite out of the edge of his omelette. Only a small one, but it was still a bit gross.

They ended up spending most of the day in bed. It was the kind of dream day Harry had always wanted with her, lounging around under the covers, talking and cuddling and kissing and fooling around. Taylor was enjoying it just as much as he was, especially when he was so enthusiastic to touch her all over and learn what she liked best, to make sure that every bit of pleasure she showed was real. She made a joke about already having had more orgasms in the one day than the entirety of last year, and whether that was true or not, Harry felt pretty damn pleased with himself.

He had an unplanned nap later in the afternoon, falling asleep in a lovely daze after rolling off of Taylor once again. It was a nice little refresher, some rest to perk him up for another round (or maybe more…).

When he fluttered his eyes open, Harry found Taylor sat up beside him, leaning back against the pillows with her Mac open on her lap. She was typing away on her open Word document, the document she normally kept hidden away. She looked so focused; he didn’t really want to disturb her.

Taylor eventually noticed him watching her, though, and she smiled at him as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Nice nap, babe?”

“Mmm. Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, though.”

“It’s okay.”

“How’s your writing going?”

Giving a reserved smile, she shrugged a little. “Good, I think. I just had some inspiration, so I thought I’d try to get a bit done.”

“Will you let me read it sometime?” he asked hopefully. “I’m curious.”

“You’ll be the first one to read it when it’s done,” she promised, not letting on to how long that might take. Knowing her, though, she wasn’t going to show him anything she wasn’t totally happy with. When it was ready, it was going to be _good_.

Sitting atop the covers between them, Harry noticed her journal lying open to two pages full of notes, all written in the black Sharpie she always seemed to carry with her, the only hint that it hadn’t been written all at once in the slight change in her handwriting in different sections. He glanced between it and Taylor, who had returned her gaze back to her laptop, reading over the last part she had typed up.

“Would you mind if I had a look?” he asked her carefully, pointing towards her journal.

He understood her hesitation. He kept his own journal close to him, never normally let anyone look inside, unless there was something he’d scribbled down for work that someone else needed to see. There were lots of copies of poems and lines he’d stumbled upon and didn’t want to forget, but there were things he’d written too, things he wasn’t ready to share with the world yet. If it were her asking him the same question, he wasn’t so sure he would say yes.

“I don’t know if you’d understand a lot of it,” Taylor replied slowly. “It makes sense to me, but I wrote it all. I don’t know what it would be like for someone else reading it. It’s very… personal.”

“Mine is, too,” he assured her. “It’s okay if you’d rather keep it to yourself.”

“No, you can look,” she decided, taking a chance. “Just… There’s a lot of poetry in there and I know half of it is probably terrible but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say so.”

He huffed a laugh. “If you think _yours_ are shit, you should take a look at mine. It’ll boost your confidence, for sure.”

“Hey, you’re a good writer, babe. You wouldn’t have the job you do if you weren’t.”

That might be so, but he wasn’t employed as a poet, was he? Maybe someday he could be that creative, though.

While Taylor went back to her writing, Harry began flicking through the pages of her journal, the only sound in the room the tapping of her fingers on the keyboard. Looking at all the thoughts she had scribbled onto the plain pages was like looking into her mind, a new insight he had never had with anyone before. He read over the words, printed in variations of her handwriting, some rushed, some careful, and he tried to savour them. He made them both fresh cups of tea and he tried to soak up as much of Taylor’s raw honesty as he could.

She was such a talented writer. Even the one-off lines she had scripted down, presumably so she wouldn’t forget them at a later date, sounded impressive on their own. It was hard to believe that they were written by the same girl who had thought she wasn’t good enough to make it as a professional author, but at the same time, he understood the sense of self-doubt.

Maybe this would be the year they overcame it.

Aside from the random thoughts and drawings and lines from future novels, Taylor’s journal was filled with poems. Love poems, mostly. About green eyes and curly hair and a smile that could light up the whole city.

They left him all warm inside, and while a few verses here and there had taken him aback with how obviously he could link them up with things that had happened between them (‘ _One night, he wakes / strange look on his face / pauses, then says, / ‘You’re my best friend’ / And you knew / what it was / he is in love_ ’), it was the few pages completely covered with titles of songs that he found most peculiar. To anyone else, it might’ve just looked like a list of songs she fancied, but he knew it was much more than that. From ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis Presley to ‘Taylor’ by Jack Johnson, he had sung each and every one of these songs, sometimes in her car but mostly when he was home alone, and Taylor seemed to have noted down everything she had ever heard him sing. It was unexpected, yet also really quite endearing.

Taylor had fallen in love with him a long time ago, whether she had been aware of it or not.

Looking up at her with sparkling eyes, Harry closed her journal and sat up, resting his hand on her cheek and pulling her out of her zone with an adoring kiss. Taylor sighed, chasing his lips when he broke away so she could get another just like it.

“You’re exceptional, my love,” Harry whispered to her, and she was quick to hit save on her document before shutting her laptop, pushing it aside before she wrapped her arms around him.

“I think you know exactly how I feel about you,” she replied gently, a magical little smile on her lips.

God, he loved her. He loved her in a way that he had never loved anyone before, and to think that this – all the soft days with kisses and smiles and constant reassurances of their devotion – was going to become their new normal, absolutely thrilled him.

Harry had the best New Year’s Eve he had ever had, the best New Year’s Day he had ever had, and hopefully, the rest of the year would be just the same.


	8. Chapter Eight

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

Three months later and Harry was waiting near the small stage at a bar and his nerves were so fierce he felt nauseous. He’d never done anything like this. He should never have let Taylor talk him into it.

“Relax, babe,” Taylor spoke reassuringly beside him, bringing her hands up to rub his shoulders. “You’re going to do great. You’re just as good as everyone else that’s gotten up there.”

“Am I?”

He wasn’t so sure. Right then, he felt like he wasn’t good at anything, at least not nearly as good as every other person in the room. God, he really did feel sick.

“ _Yes_ ,” Taylor insisted, as she had been doing all night – all _week_. “You’re gonna blow everyone away. Everyone’s gonna be like, _holy shit, who is this insanely talented, handsome young man?_ They’re going to _love_ you.”

“Are you _sure?”_

“From this moment on, I’m going to be deflecting wannabe groupies. _Back off, bitch. He’s mine._ ”

Harry turned his head to her, finally cracking a smile. “You’re suck a dork, love.”

“But I got you to smile!” she pointed out with a pleased grin. “Just go up there and have fun, babe. You’ve got this.”

“You’re buying me a drink after this, you know?”

“You can have as many drinks as you like.”

Taylor kissed him good luck, patting him on the back when it was his turn to go up, urging him forward.

They were spending their Wednesday night in a small bar they’d never visited before, were only there because of the flyer Taylor had seen and thrusted upon him enthusiastically. The bar was hosting an open mic night – they regularly did, but they were doing a special covers night this week and Taylor had been unable to get the idea of Harry giving it a go out of her head. She had managed to convince him into going (in part thanks to her awfully persuasive tokens of affection) and most of him appreciated her faith in him, but the anxious part was wondering what the fuck he was doing there with his guitar.

At least he had stopped Taylor from inviting all their friends to come watch – only Karlie and Josh had tagged along. He didn’t think he could handle fucking up in front of _all_ of their friends. He’d never live it down.

As the guy before him came off stage, Harry congratulated him and was met with a wide smile and a wish of good luck. He was going to need it, if he was going to follow that successfully. That guy had been _good_ , had surely done this many times before.

Stepping up onto the stage, Harry was thankful that he knew how to adjust a mic stand and simply plug the chord to the amp into his guitar – he’d seen people embarrass themselves with messing it up before, and he was glad not to join the club of poor starts.

The lighting made it difficult to see every face staring at him, thank god; it helped to ease his pounding heart. He knew where their table was – over to his right, further towards the back – and he tried to avoid looking too closely in that direction.

Taking a deep breath, he put on a smile.

“Hi, my name’s Harry Styles. This is my first time up here, so I hope you’ll be kind,” he introduced himself, glad to hear a couple chuckles near the front. “This is a song you’ll probably know. It’s called ‘Riptide’.”

As soon as he started strumming his guitar, Harry started to calm down. He practiced all the time, had found it to be a nice way to relax after a day at work, as well as being rewarding. He was improving all the time and his confidence had grown, for sure. The list of songs he could play was always building, and he was starting to work on some new stuff of his own, too. Nothing he was ready to share with the world yet, though: the few song-writing classes he had started attending and the video chats with Ed hadn’t developed him much yet, he didn’t think, but it was a start.

Taylor had helped him pick the covers for tonight. There was a limit of ten minutes per person, which gave room for about three songs. They’d arrived early to get his name written down on the sign-up sheet, as well as a note of the songs he intended on performing so there wouldn’t be any double ups. Thankfully, there hadn’t been anyone ahead of him with the same material as him.

They had settled on tracks that were relatively well-known, hoping that it would get the audience interested if they already knew the words and could sing along if they wanted. Harry had been to enough gigs to know what made an individual act memorable, and he was praying that his renditions of ‘Riptide’ by Vance Joy, ‘Viva La Vida’ by Coldplay, and ‘Go Your Own Way’ by Fleetwood Mac would be enough to, at least, not make anyone want to throw anything at him to get him to stop.

The audience seemed to react well. Nobody booed or threw any beer nuts at him, but rather offered applause after each of his pieces, a louder one at the end of his set after he said thank you for listening. He walked off that stage not feeling sick, but enlivened. Adrenaline had set into his veins and he felt like he could do anything. Like he could actually come back and sing something of his own and have it not turn out to be a complete disaster.

After wishing the woman who was up next good luck and zipping his guitar back up in its case, Harry looked up to find Taylor had materialised back near the stage, watching him with a genuinely proud grin that had him beaming back at her. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, laughing as he lifted her up off the ground.

“You were amazing, babe.”

“That was so fucking cool,” he announced with a laugh, setting her feet back on the floor and meeting her eyes as she pulled back a bit, her hand resting on the back of his neck. “You are so getting laid tonight.”

Taylor’s giggles mixed in with the kiss she leaned in to give him, a long congratulatory kiss that neither of them gave a damn whether anyone saw. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done, and he had every right to kiss the girl who had given him the confidence to go through with it in the first place.

The two of them were going strong. Over the last few months, their relationship had established itself as quite possibly the best either of them had ever had. Thanks to the convenience of living just next door, they saw each other all the time, had nice nights in as well as date nights out. For his birthday, Taylor had whisked him away on a weekend trip to Hudson where they booked a hotel and enjoyed the change of scenery, if only for a couple days. Both of them were eager to do more travelling together, whether it was near or far.

As they headed back over to their table, Harry received some more compliments from strangers, which he accepted warmly with genuine gratitude. Karlie and Josh both offered him congratulations when he returned to his seat, and he gave a dimpled smile as he carefully propped his guitar back up against the table, finding it more personal when he knew the people telling him how good a job he’d done.

Taylor went to go buy them new drinks from the bar, which he suspected she didn’t have to pay full price for, if the way the bartender looked at her the first time in her high-waisted jeans and cropped long-sleeved top that revealed a fine slice of skin was anything to go by.

They were enjoying the next act when Harry got a tap on the shoulder and heard a familiar voice say, “I didn’t know you performed.”

Turning his head, his face lit up in unexpected recognition at the girl he saw smiling at him. _“Chiffon.”_

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” the pink-haired teenager he hadn’t seen in many months told him.

“I didn’t expect to see _you_ here. How did you even get in here?”

“I’m not drinking! Or performing. So it’s cool.”

Harry smiled, gesturing at his friends at the table. “Taylor, Josh, Karlie – this is Chiffon. She’s a musician; I interviewed her for the magazine a while back.”

“Oh my gosh, Harry showed me your CD! You’ve got a wonderful voice,” Taylor gushed, smiling at her honestly. “And I love your hair. It suits you so well; you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Chiffon replied, clearly surprised by the rush of compliments. “Thank you, you’re so stunning yourself. What lipstick is that?”

“NARS lip crayon in Dragon Girl. It’s the perfect red, I swear.”

Harry smiled between them, and suddenly the girl affirmation shifted over to Karlie, where Chiffon clicked her fingers in recollection. “You were in _A.N.Y._! You were in one of the fashion shoots last year.”

“I can’t believe you can remember that,” Karlie laughed, amazed.

“Oh, you’re beautiful! I tried to find your Instagram after I bought that issue. Who are you signed with?”

“I’m not. It was just kind of a one-off thing.”

“Seriously? You look like you’re, like, a proper supermodel.”

“Thank you.”

Chiffon cast her eyes back on Harry and she flashed her pearly whites. “I really didn’t know you were a musician. I probably should’ve guessed that, what with your job and everything.”

“I wouldn’t really say I’m a proper musician,” he countered, feeling Taylor kick him under the table and smiling in reconsideration. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, you’ve got a great voice.”

“What about you? How’ve things been going?”

“I’m actually going to do some touring with some friends – the ones I told you about. We’re going on a road trip over summer, even up to Canada. It’s gonna be wild.”

Her excitement was evident on her elfish features, and he really was happy for her. It was the sort of experience she deserved, one that he was sure would lead onto more fantastic things. She was young and talented; she had a bright career ahead of her, that was certain.

“I’ll have to come along to a show, then. You’ll have the dates up somewhere?”

“On my Instagram,” she nodded. “Thank you, it would be amazing if you could come.”

“I’ll do my best to make it,” he promised.

“It’s really good to see you again. Maybe I’ll see you on stage again sometime?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he smiled at her. “You take care.”

“You too, Harry.”

Offering her a wave as she swayed back over to her table of friends, light on her feet and still looking underaged despite her efforts to dress up, Harry turned back to his own table and found the others grinning his way.

“Look at you, you’ve got your first fan,” Josh teased him, and Taylor reached for his hand as they laughed at the thought.

“Told you I was going to have to start warding off groupies,” Taylor grinned, interlocking their fingers and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“She’s one girl and she’s seventeen. She’s not a groupie.”

“One day you’re gonna have a _ton_ of girls chasing after you.”

“I’ve already got the one I want.”

Smiling, Harry leaned in to kiss Taylor, short and sweet when they were in front of their friends. No matter where all this was going to lead for him, he was unbelievably happy that he had Taylor there supporting him through every step. There was no one else, nobody he could possibly meet, that could change the way he felt about her. Hopefully that wouldn’t be something she forgot.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Late on a Saturday night, Taylor opened her apartment up to Harry, sitting with her legs hugged to her chest as she listened to him talk about the gig he’d been at for the last few hours. It had been a good one: a bit heavier than he normally listened to, but they were pretty skilled in their playing. Definitely a band he was going to mention in his work.

While he knew he could sometimes ramble on about these things, Taylor was always a good listener – aside from tonight, where she looked distracted rather than her usual interested.

“Is everything okay?” Harry asked her, finally shutting up and calling her out with concern.

“Yeah,” Taylor nodded, giving him an apologetic smile. “I’m listening.”

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” he said, and he reached out to rub her arm reassuringly. “Or are you tired? You didn’t have to invite me over. I can go, if you like.”

“Stay,” she stated, letting go of her legs and stretching them out. “I asked you over ‘cause there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, withdrawing his hand. He didn’t like the sound of that. Nothing good ever seemed to come after a sentence like that.

“I don’t want to freak you out or anything. It’s just important and I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk to you about it.”

He paused with trepidation. “Are you pregnant?”

“What? No! Why would you even ask me that?”

“You’re being all mysterious and it’s freaking me out.”

“I’m not pregnant! God. You know I’ve got that covered.”

“That’s rather an incorrect choice of words.”

Playfully slapping him on the arm, Taylor shook her head, smiling at him. “You know what I mean.”

“So what is it then?”

“Well… it’s something I’ve been considering for a while. Especially when Sam and I broke up.”

Harry raked his hand through his hair, thrown off by her statement. That was a long time ago now – they had barely seen Sam, rarely ever mentioned him in conversation. He wished she would hurry up and get to the point.

“It’s just… You know I’ve lived in this apartment for years now, and… well, I think I’d like to move. I think a change of scenery would be good for me. I mean, this place is hardly flash. There are better places I could afford, even with college and everything. I’ve been looking online for a while and there are some really nice places on offer, and like, it feels right. I don’t want to be stuck here forever, you know?”

Oh, he knew. He knew it damn well, but it hadn’t occurred to him that _she_ was looking at getting out. She had pretty much already decided on it, by the sounds of it. She was going to leave, and he could kiss goodbye to all the easy nights they spent together thanks to the convenience of living right next door to each other.

His selfish disappointment played out on his face, as much as he was trying to remain neutral, and Taylor reached out to caress his cheek, but he just turned his head away as he chewed on his lip.

“Harry,” she sighed, dropping her hand back onto her lap. This was exactly why she had put off telling him. They didn’t have many disagreements, but when they did, it never left either of them feeling any good.

“If you think leaving will be better for you, then you should find somewhere new,” he told her, though he was unable to meet her eyes. He didn’t want her to go. Sure, it made sense that she had thought about it after her break up with Sam, but now? Wasn’t she happier here now that they were together?

“I’m not _leaving_ , Harry,” Taylor countered, then said the only other thing that could make it better: “I want you to come with me.”

Darting his gaze back to her, he looked at her in surprised confusion. “What?”

“I want you to come with me,” she repeated, slipping her hand into his and staring back at him seriously. “I want to start a new chapter in a new place with _you_.”

“Are– are you sure?” he asked, brows knitting in a frown. He remembered what she had said about not being ready to move in with Sam last year, and surely they had been together for longer when the idea had come up. It didn’t make sense to Harry that _he_ could make her change her mind like that.

“We practically live together anyway. It’s crazy that we’re paying rent for two places when we could get one and split it between us. And if we’re gonna do it, why not find somewhere better than this? Start somewhere new,” she reasoned, giving his hand a convincing squeeze. “We already know we can stand being around each other a lot.”

He actually laughed at that. “Oh, it’s so good to know you can _stand_ being around me.”

“You brighten every day with your sarcasm,” Taylor smiled, letting the moment linger. “So… what do you think?”

Leaning a bit closer to her, he gave a nonchalant shrug, his smile betraying him. “I love having a roommate. Do you?”

“I’m a bit out of practice. You’d have to forgive me if I’m not the best at it.”

“You’d have pretty big shoes to fill. Niall was a pretty good roommate, even if he was a bit lazy.”

“I think I’m automatically better because I can do this,” Taylor smirked a little, leaning in to kiss him, and if there was one sure fire way to sway him into doing anything, it was with kisses like that.

“You might have a point,” Harry conceded, circling his arms around her waist and pulling her into him. She shifted onto his lap with such ease, the kind that came with knowing every inch of each other’s bodies and not having any reservations.

“You don’t have to decide on anything right away,” she let him know, her arms draping over his shoulders. “I’ve just been wanting to put the idea out there. Especially if you go away later in the year, it’d be easier for you, since you wouldn’t have to keep paying for an empty place.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, love.”

“You underestimate yourself. Just think about it all, okay?”

“There’s not really much for me to think about. I’d love to wake up and see your face every day.”

Taylor smiled sweetly, twirling a lock of his hair around her finger. “You mean so much to me, you know?” she said, her voice turning softer.

Harry kissed her gently, pulling her that bit closer. “I love you, Tay,” he exhaled, and she tangled her hand in his hair as she pressed their foreheads together.

“I’ve been bookmarking apartments; we could go check some of them out next weekend, if you’re not busy. There’s a new one that I really, really like.”

“You sure you want to do this now? I don’t want you stressing about it when you’ve got your exams coming up.”

“I can handle it,” she assured him. “I really want this.”

“Then let’s do it,” he grinned, and they sealed the deal with a kiss.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

The following weekend, Taylor had them touring a few apartments around the area. She’d arranged showings throughout the day in an array of places she’d taken a liking to online, all a bit better than where they were currently at. Before they got attached to any one, she double checked that they were pet friendly – the last thing she wanted was to fall in love with a place only to find out that her beloved cats wouldn’t be allowed.

Harry hadn’t realised it at first, but she had strategically arranged their timetable for the day, saving the one she had liked the pictures of best as their last stop. And that one, he was sure, she had already double, _triple_ checked that pets were definitely allowed.

It was a lovely place. As opposed to the basic blocks they had visited, this one was a regency-style apartment, located about a forty minute ride out from the city. It was the most expensive on their list, not by a whole lot, but from the outside, it was understandable why.

They walked hand in hand as an agent led them up the stairs to the second floor apartment that was on offer, and as soon as they stepped inside through the intricately carved door, the first thing that they were met with was light. Lovely natural light streaming in through the windows, bigger than what they were used to.

“Oh my gosh,” Taylor gasped, glancing around in awe.

The apartment, much like the others they’d visited, was a similar layout to their current one: an open plan kitchen and living area, with one bedroom, a bathroom and laundry. The difference was that it was _much_ nicer, in part thanks to the high-end furnishings that unfortunately weren’t included, and because of the sense of potential it exuded.

“This one has just come onto the market,” the agent informed them, her ponytail swishing as she guided them further inside. “The owners recently renovated it – all new hardwood floors, and an updated kitchen and bathroom. An apartment like this in this location isn’t going to stay vacant for long.”

That was hardly surprising. As Taylor entered the modern kitchen, Harry could practically see the hearts shining in her eyes.

“This kitchen is perfect,” she declared, running her fingers along the black granite wrap-around island lightly, as if she was touching something precious. “Look at all this space! We don’t have nearly this much space right now. And an island! I’d love an island. We can have breakfast here all the time.”

“’s very nice,” Harry nodded. In every place they had looked at, he felt like he was in one of those house hunting shows on TV, what with Taylor’s comments on flooring and splashbacks and colour schemes. All that was missing was a camera crew and one of them jumping up and down insisting that they couldn’t survive without a double sink or his and hers closets or something as dramatic a deal breaker as that.

“I love the lighting in here. And with the white walls it makes it feel really open,” Taylor narrated, the agent nodding and watching her intently as she moved through the rest of the room, around the lounge and by the windows. “The view on this street is so much nicer, too. I love the trees.”

“It’s a very appealing area,” the agent agreed. “We sell really well here.”

“Can you picture our stuff in here?” Taylor turned back to Harry, opening her arms at either side.

“Your pictures would look really nice on that wall,” he thought, gesturing to his right. “Are we allowed to put up any more hooks?”

“No permanent hooks. You’re welcome to use temporary hooks that don’t leave marks, though.”

“That’s perfect,” Taylor beamed.

They moved into the bedroom, and if there was any hope of Taylor _not_ wanting to move into this place, it was shattered when she got a proper look at the relatively spacious room, styled to homey sophistication. She rushed right over to the window, her heels tapping loudly on the lightwood floor as she passed by all the quality furniture. She sat down on the neat little window seat, meeting Harry’s gaze with a look of total joy.

“I’ve always wanted a window seat,” she said, in case he hadn’t joined the dots. “I can just imagine spending hours writing here. You could too! It’d be perfect, don’t you think?”

Harry nodded, unable to stop his smile at her blatant enthusiasm. “The cats will love it, too.”

“Oh my god, this’ll totally be Mere’s new spot. She’ll want to sleep here all the time in the sunshine.”

They were shown a walk-in closet, one with enough space for both of them to share, as well as a decent sized bathroom, all shiny and new, and a tiny laundry that just fit the essentials. The agent waited by the kitchen while the pair slipped back into the bathroom for a chance to talk things through.

Taylor naturally sat down on the bed, immediately shooting back up and neatening out the immaculate bedspread, unsure whether she was allowed there.

“What do you think, babe?”

“I know you love it,” Harry smiled at her, and she stepped toward him, interlocking both of their hands.

“But do _you_ love it?”

“I’m happy wherever you’re happy.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “That’s not a proper answer.”

“’s a really nice place. Just, are you sure you want to rush this? You only suggested it a week ago.”

“But I’ve been thinking about it for _way longer_ ,” she pointed out. “If we don’t go for it, we’ll miss out, and who knows when we’ll find something as nice as this that we can actually afford. Honestly, the only thing this place doesn’t have that I want is a study that I can turn into a library. And a garden, but you can’t really expect that here. Oh, and a balcony would be cool, but I can live without one.”

“Anything else?” he teased, and she playfully rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying. I’d be happy here, for sure. But I don’t want you to just go along with what _I_ want. That’s not fair on you.”

Swinging their joined hands a little between them, Harry smiled; her genuine care for other people was a quality he would never stop admiring.

“I think,” he began, “you’re very lovely, for one, and that your spontaneity is really quite exciting. But yeah, I think I can picture us here. ‘s not any harder for me to get to work from here, which is really the only thing that matters for me. Everything else – we can make it ours.”

Taylor grinned back at him, and he refrained from kissing his favourite smile just yet. “Which place have you liked best?”

“This one,” he answered truthfully. Not just because of how she obviously felt about it, but because it had a kind of charm, one he could see the both of them happily settling into and turning into something unique to them.

“So… is that a yes?” she asked hopefully.

He teased her, drawing out the moment with a series of contemplative expressions that she watched with amusement. Eventually, he broke back into a smile. “’s not my first impulse move. I don’t really see a reason why we shouldn’t do it together.”

Throwing her arms around him, Taylor hugged him excitedly, bending one knee in a perfect pop. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Harry squeezed his arms around her waist, grinning into her hair. “I just have one condition.”

“Anything.”

And so he made her giggle mischievously as he whispered something dirty in her ear, the kiss she gave him making it clear that she agreed to fulfilling his request. Oh, did he love her.

When they joined the agent again, the woman smiled professionally at them, asked, “What are you thinking?” as if she wasn’t already certain she had had Taylor hooked before they had even stepped through the door.

Beside him, Taylor squeezed his hand, eager as she said, “Where do we sign?”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

They moved in in May – on the thirteenth, much to Taylor’s superstitious delight. It had taken weeks to sort everything out, what with organising rent inspections before they could leave their current places and getting the paperwork for the new apartment done, and while they had finally gotten the keys earlier in the week, between work and studies they just didn’t have the time to make the move until the weekend. Not that Taylor minded: great things happened when there was a thirteen involved, she insisted. There couldn’t have been a better day for it.

When Harry stepped back into his apartment that morning, checking that everything was all ready to go while Taylor went to go pick up breakfast for them, he realised how strange it looked. Almost all of his furniture was gone – he’d been losing bits and pieces over the last few weeks, having sold them online where he had bought them in the first place – and all that was really left was cardboard packing boxes filled with the things he was keeping. It was mostly Taylor’s furniture they were going to be using in the new place, as well as some new stuff they were planning on getting with the cash Harry had made. Everything here had just been temporary.

While he didn’t feel a particularly great sense of loss in saying goodbye, what he felt he was leaving was not a place he called home, but rather a place where he had made memories. It was here that he had learnt how to get by totally on his own, here that he had met Taylor, here that he had made a new friend and fallen in love. It might not have been his favourite place, but he had ended up having a lot of really good times here. Some that the new owners of his furniture were better off not knowing about.

He and Taylor were taking a momentous step forward, and honestly, Harry couldn’t be happier. There were only good things ahead, he could feel it – they both could.

With everything of his all set to go, Harry went back to Taylor’s once she had returned with some food. Their last meal here, they settled at her bare dining table to eat breakfast and drink takeaway coffee that wasn’t nearly as nice as former barista Taylor’s. She was looking _really_ nice: with the weather warming up, she had a loose white t-shirt on and a pair of denim cut offs, and her hair, which she had grown below her shoulders now, was pulled back into a ponytail. Simple, yet perfect for the day of work ahead.

They had hired movers to help transport their stuff; no way could they manage it in Taylor’s car. A group of attractive young men juggled their furniture down the stairs, and they might’ve been pissed that they didn’t have an elevator they could use, but not so much when they were buttered up by such a beautiful girl offering them a container of homemade cookies as extra thanks for helping out. “I’m sure there are other things they’d rather be doing with their Saturday,” she had pointed out while she was making the treats. Sure, that was probably the case, but judging by their response to Taylor, they didn’t mind so much about it anymore.

“I’m standing _right here_ ,” Harry murmured to her as she watched, a little too keenly, two of the men bend down to pick up the cabinet the TV was normally on.

Taylor glanced at him, smiling as she side-stepped closer to him and put her arm around his waist. “Jealousy isn’t a good look, babe,” she advised, basically confirming that she had in fact been checking out the movers and their impressive muscles. She kissed his sulking lips and eased him with her added comment of, “You can show off to me later, babe.”

True, but he had to watch her be ogled at until then.

At least they had something else to do rather than just stand around and make sure nobody broke anything. They had to get the cats bundled safely into their carriers, which was never an easy task, least of all when there were strangers wandering in and out. Olivia had steered clear of them ever since she had seen Taylor set out their carriers earlier, while Meredith just looked on at everyone suspiciously from her perch on top of the kitchen counter.

It wasn’t exactly smooth sailing getting Meredith into hers, and she looked rather livid once she was zipped up inside, but at least it wasn’t as much of an ordeal as it was with Olivia. She _really_ hated the carrier, and they had to chase after her more than once before they managed to wrangle her up and get her inside, both of them earning scratches from the distressed feline in the process. It would’ve been much easier just to hold her during the car trip instead.

Once everything was packed into the movers’ truck, they were left in silence, and they took a moment just to look around Taylor’s empty apartment. She had years more worth of memories here, and while she was excited to be moving on, there was a sense of nostalgia for what she was leaving behind.

“You okay?” Harry asked her gently when she ducked her head and started blinking more rapidly. “’s okay to be a bit upset about going.”

“No, it’s not that,” Taylor waved him off. “My contact just moved on my eyeball.”

He couldn’t help his laugh. “I thought you were going to _cry_.”

“I’ll cry if it doesn’t go back,” she joked, and after blinking some more and gently poking her finger to her right eye, she seemed to be alright. “You’re so lucky, you and your perfect vision.”

“I still love you, Blindy.”

“ _Blindy?_ Oh my god, do _not_ make that my new nickname,” Taylor groaned, giggling as he pulled her into a hug. She rested her chin on his shoulder, holding onto him for a long moment. “Who would’ve thought we’d be doing this, huh?”

“Can’t say I saw any of it coming when I first moved here.”

“I’m _so_ glad you moved here. I can’t imagine being anywhere else but with you.”

Giving her a squeeze, Harry kissed her when they pulled back enough, a smile on his lips. “C’mon. We should get going. Our future awaits,” he said, thrusting his fist up into the air like he was some kind of superhero. It made Taylor laugh, which was all he ever really wanted.

They carted a cat carrier each, Taylor shutting the door behind her one last time. While Harry had done the same to his earlier with ease, she lingered for a few seconds before she finally let go, slipping her keys into her bag, ready to hand in to the landlord when he was back in on Monday.

On their way down the stairwell, Harry patted the wall on the third floor, the sound of his hand clapping the surface echoing around them. Taylor looked over at him and his ridiculous smirk and just rolled her eyes, colour rising in her cheeks.

“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” he agreed, popping the ‘p’.

Taylor shook her head, grinning at the recollection of their spontaneous rendezvous the weekend they had gone out celebrating before Harry’s birthday, where on their way back up to bed Harry had pressed her up against the wall and kissed her hungrily, unable to wait until they scaled the last flight of stairs. If they hadn’t been drunk, they might not have risked it, but in the early hours of the morning Harry had hiked up her dress and fucked her right there in the stairwell, the sound of Taylor’s moans echoing through the silence driving him wild. It was a night he was never going to let her forget.

It didn’t take them all too long to get to their new apartment, parking for the first time in their new space. The movers’ truck was stopped out front, ready and waiting for them, and the team followed along a bit behind them as they went up to let themselves into their new place to call home.

Dropping her bag onto her much-loved island, both Taylor and Harry unzipped their respective cat carriers and watched the animals dart out to freedom, little paws pitter pattering on the shiny wooden floor.

“Welcome home, babies,” Taylor cooed, setting the carriers aside and out of the way.

“Are they going to be alright getting settled?” Harry checked, eyes following the curious cats surveying their new surroundings.

“Yeah, they’ll be fine. They don’t take long to adjust to new places. As long as they have food and somewhere comfortable to sleep, they’re pretty happy. Speaking of, can you go down and get the box with their stuff in it? I want to set some water out for them.”

“Sure, babe.”

Harry passed a couple of the movers on his way back down the stairs, offering them a friendly smile as they began carrying boxes up. He searched through the truck for the box Taylor wanted, each of them marked with her handwriting helpfully indicating what was inside. While he found it with ease, they realised they hadn’t left out any scissors to cut any of their boxes open, and if it weren’t for one of the considerate movers lending them a Stanley knife, they would’ve been left trying to rip the masking tape off themselves.

While they opened a couple of their boxes, they didn’t begin unpacking their things until after the men were done with bringing their furniture up, easier without quite as many stairs to climb. Nothing was really in its place: in the right rooms, yes, but placed haphazardly, waiting to be properly arranged.

They (especially Taylor) thanked the movers profusely for their efforts, and they left happily with their payment and the rest of the cookies they hadn’t devoured earlier. The apartment was suddenly silent again, and the pair looked at each other for a moment, a smile growing wider on Taylor’s face before she jumped up into his arms, both of them laughing in their joy.

The rest of the day was spent sorting things out, positioning the furniture in the living room to their aesthetic taste. As promised, Harry got to show off by moving what he could on his own, while Taylor directed him accordingly. When it came to their boxes, they started by unpacking their kitchenware and putting it away in cupboards and drawers, Taylor mainly taking the reins on that one, and they made sure the cats knew the new spots for their bowls and their little box. They seemed pretty content despite the location change, actually, even if they did occasionally get in the way.

Taylor took a break by heading out to do some grocery shopping, the new silver fridge that had come with the apartment in need of some contents, while Harry made a start on their bedroom, unpacking and hanging up some of their clothes in the walk-in closet, leaving a pile ready to be put away into dresser drawers later. He sorted his clothes on one side logically, suspected that Taylor would end up reorganising the way he started to do hers with her own method.

“Ooh, you’ve been busy,” the blonde grinned when she returned to discover his neat efforts, coming up and hugging her arms around his stomach. “You deserve a break, babe. I got us some _caaandyyy_.”

“A woman with my heart,” Harry grinned, turning his head and kissing her happily.

They weren’t so productive after that. They chilled out on the lounge for a while before they cooked their first dinner together in their new kitchen, plenty of space for the two of them. While they waited for the pizza dough they whipped up to rise, Harry lifted Taylor up onto the island and kissed her until their lips felt numb. This could be their every night, and it was such a mind-blowing concept that Harry wondered why they hadn’t done this sooner.

Lounging together at either end of the couch, they ate their homemade pizzas, delicious and just the way they liked them, with music playing in the background. Harry’s phone had been hooked up to speakers and shuffling through a wide collection of songs all day, the tunes offering much needed background noise to keep their motivation up through their work. It had certainly been a wise decision: Taylor’s joyous dancing throughout the day was enough to make anyone smile.

With their leftovers stored and their stomachs full, they remained lazing around, enjoying each other’s company in their new surroundings. The apartment had a pleasant atmosphere, one that would surely grow once they properly settled in and made it their own.

Olivia appeared to have forgiven and forgotten them for the carrier incident earlier, as she hopped up for some cuddles later, relishing in the attention she got when she relaxed herself on Taylor’s lap. Meredith, on the other hand, had taken residence on the window seat in their bedroom, as they had predicted.

“I want a plant in those corners,” Taylor thought, pointing between the spots at either end of the windows. “I think they’ll grow better with the light here.”

“Just hope Liv doesn’t try to eat any more flowers,” Harry smiled, scratching the cat’s head affectionately.

“Her flower penchant is forever breaking my heart,” she replied with a laugh. “This is why I want a proper garden, so I can grow whatever I want without worrying about her eating them. She’s so weird – I feed her, why would she feel the need to munch on my beautiful flowers?”

“Aesthetic,” he joked, making her smile and roll her eyes. “We can have a garden one day, my love. Anywhere you like.”

Taylor looked at him fondly, shifting to rest her head on his shoulder. “We need to travel, live in some different cities. I can’t picture myself living in New York for the rest of my life.”

“I can picture you in a nice little cottage, somewhere quiet where you can focus on your writing. Maybe in England, if you’d like. Or France. You could put your studies to good use.”

 _“Oui, mon amour,”_ she smiled, tilting her head and pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. “Nous pourrions s’enfuir ensemble. _Faire l’amour et l’art et de cultiver un magnifique jardin_.”

Eyes fluttering closed, Harry sighed contentedly as her warm breath ghosted over his skin. It was rare that she actually spoke the second language she had learnt; she saved it for romance, knowing that he always enjoyed the sound despite not having a clue what she was saying to him.

_“Danse avec moi et m’embrasser sous les étoiles.”_

“Something about kissing?” he guessed; He knew a few things here and there, but not enough to make sense of most of her sentences. Baguettes and croissants and macarons didn’t come up very often in conversation, funnily enough, considering they were the French words he knew best.

_“Embrasse-moi sous ma robe.”_

“I love your dirty talk, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Laughing, Taylor pressed her lips against his neck a few more times. “I could be talking about anything and you’d think it was sexy just because I said it in French,” she pointed out, trailing her hand over his chest. “You want sexy, though?”

When he nodded, Taylor carefully lifted Olivia off her lap and set her down further along the couch, where she curled herself up in a new comfortable position while Taylor leaned further into him, her voice low and seductive when she next spoke in his ear. _“Baise-moi partout dans cet appartement. Mettez votre tête entre mes jambes et fais moi crier, mon amour.”_

“Whatever you said, I don’t think you learnt it in class,” Harry predicted, a smirk playing on his lips.

“God no,” Taylor laughed, pulling back to smile at him. “We didn’t have How to Talk Dirty in French 101. We had to look that up in our own time.”

“There’s something oddly attractive about that,” he thought, and he laughed when she tapped him on the chest.

“Dance with me, my dear Prince Harry.”

He breathed a laugh. She’d recently changed his name in her phone to that fond nickname (in his, she was listed under ‘Tay-ter tot’ ever since he had found her munching away on the potato gems one night she was studying and made the joke then) and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t adore it. He loved being her prince.

Accepting her hand, Harry let Taylor pull him up and guide him to some clear space. They’d shoved the boxes up against the wall so they wouldn’t be in the way until they were all sorted out, so there was a decent amount of room for the two of them to twirl around to their heart’s content. It was something they did a lot: Taylor loved being with someone who wasn’t shy about dancing with her, when they were alone and when they were not, especially when she wanted to dance properly, not just like if they were in a nightclub. She always loved romance.

They slow danced to a soft love song that shuffled on, and he made Taylor giggle when he started guiding her into a dreamy waltz, one that wasn’t skilful but was fun, which was the main thing. Harry spun her around dipped her when he pulled her back in, and she kissed him with a sweet smile after she was lifted back up.

In a not so smooth move, Taylor almost ended up on the floor thanks to a more up-tempo song coming on and her socks sliding too easily on the shiny hardwood, making her lose her balance so much so that she had to grab onto the back of the couch to catch herself before she completely slipped over. Harry couldn’t help but burst out laughing, and she was grinning as she lowered herself down onto the floor on her own accord.

“How are you so _clumsy?”_

“Shut up!” Taylor started laughing herself, covering her face with her hand. “You always laugh at me.”

“I laugh out of love,” Harry assured her, dropping down onto his knees and shuffling over to her. He plopped himself down beside her, rubbing his hand over her thigh affectionately. She smiled at him, bumping her shoulder against his.

“I love you, too.”

“I’m glad. I’d hate to think I’ve made a horrendous decision moving in with someone who secretly can’t stand me,” he teased with a dimpled grin. “Maybe this is all a part of a bigger plot of yours. Luring me into false sense of security before you stab me in my sleep, or something.”

“Oh, babe, I wouldn’t stab you in your sleep,” Taylor disagreed, shaking her head. “I think you’re forgetting how many crime shows I’ve watched and books I’ve read. I could come up with something _way_ more creative than that, _and_ get away with it.”

“God, who have I moved in with?” Harry laughed, and when he scooted himself along the floor away from her, Taylor only giggled as she chased after him, the two of them sliding along on their asses like children.

Taylor put an end to it when she grabbed onto the back of his t-shirt, using it to tug herself forward so she could wrap her arms around him. “Gotcha,” she spoke, and Harry leaned back against her, slipping down a little further so he could grin up at her.

“Kiss me.”

Carefully letting him go, Taylor moved around him, climbing on top of him when he laid down in the middle of the floor. For a moment, she just gazed down at him, a smile in her eyes, then she kissed him slowly, tenderly. It wasn’t so comfortable lying on the floor like that, but Harry lost himself in the feeling of her loving kisses and the familiar weight of her body on top of his. They could stay like that all night and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Taylor, though, thought more about his wellbeing, and she soon suggested they move back onto the couch. She laid on her back while Harry propped himself up on his side, his hand smoothing up and down her waist as he kissed her freely, Olivia sleeping at the other end of the couch, blissfully unaware.

She let him unzip her denim shorts and slip his hand in her underwear, playing with her while they kissed. A lot of the time, it was casual like this, where one thing led to another and neither wanted to stop the other as they enjoyed the easy harmony they had together. They had learnt each other incredibly well and it was _always_ fun.

Harry had her smiling softly up at him when he pulled his slippery fingers free, her eyes never leaving him as he licked them clean. “I love this song,” she sighed, which really wasn’t what he was expecting her to say after _that_ , and he chuckled gently.

“Always reminded me of you,” he admitted, tuning back into the music still playing from his iPhone atop the kitchen counter; he’d stopped paying attention, utterly focused on his girl. It was a Parachute song, ‘Without You’, that he had listened to too many times when he had first met her. When he didn’t know one thing about her, but he wanted her to give him everything about her. When it had only been a moment, it’s true, but he could never live this life without her.

Maybe he should’ve been embarrassed to confess so, but Taylor was aware how deeply he adored her, of how he had always adored her, and she was nothing short of amazed that _she_ was the girl that gave meaning to the love songs he heard.

Together, they listened, Harry mouthing the words to the chorus and making her smile turn sweeter when he tapped his finger on the tip of her nose. They’d come so far to be where they were now, and as they laid there, eyes locked and lyrics resonating, the inevitability of it all seemed obvious.

 _“Doesn’t matter where I go,_  
doesn’t matter if I run.  
We were always gonna get too close,  
we were always gonna fall in love.”

As soon as they had started to get to know one another, that was it. Harry had tried to act as if it didn’t matter that he was crazy about someone he couldn’t have, while Taylor had buried the feelings she shouldn’t have had deep down inside her. They had pretended around each other to spare themselves from what they believed to be certain heartache, but they were always drawn together like magnets, never able to resist the pull of the other until it was too late; they were too close, too in love.

From that very first night where Taylor had sung along with him in the shower, they couldn’t stop what had been started.

And now, in the comfort of their new home, Harry kissed her with all his love, unbelievably thankful that his private performance had turned into a duet that night over a year ago.

*** * * * ***

The next morning, Harry was woken up by Olivia climbing over him, a paw digging right into his cheekbone as if she had never heard of such a thing as _personal space,_ or _letting someone sleep peacefully_. Groaning, he grabbed hold of the cat before she could venture any further and disturb Taylor, too. She was still sleeping, curled up facing away from him on her half of the bed – well, _mattress_. They hadn’t gotten around to reconstructing the pieces of the bed frame yesterday and had ended up throwing pillows and a blanket on top of the mattress on the floor. Not the fanciest of set ups, but neither of them gave a toss.

He quietly clambered out from under the covers, stepping around discarded clothing as he carried Olivia out to the lounge, setting her down by a pillow and hoping she would stay put. A futile effort, it turned out: Harry was in the bathroom when he realised he had been followed, the white ball of fur weaving between his legs while he went to pee. It was rather off-putting, especially considering he wasn’t wearing a thing, and all he could really do was giggle to himself.

Sliding back into yesterday’s underwear, not wanting to make a raucous rummaging through one of the boxes for a clean pair until Taylor was awake, Harry scooped Olivia back up and brought her out for some breakfast. He refilled their bowls with dry food and fresh water, and that seemed to content Olivia, Meredith soon padding over to have her share.

While he got something sorted for himself, Harry found his headphones and plugged them into his phone, breaking some of the quiet while he found himself a bowl after trying three different cupboards – he was going to have to properly acquaint himself with the new order of things. He poured himself some cornflakes and set the kettle to boil for a cup of tea, all the while enjoying the cheesy yet very appropriate start to his day with ‘Love is Easy’ by McFly.

Over the sound of the kettle and the music in his ears, he didn’t hear that Taylor had gotten up and was standing _right there_ , watching his embarrassing dancing around the kitchen as if he still lived on his own. When he did catch sight of her, trying to hold back her laughter, he flinched in surprise, slamming his hip into the edge of the counter. She couldn’t contain her laugh after that, and neither could he.

“What are you listening to?” Taylor asked him, floating her way over. She’d slipped back into her white t-shirt and not much else, looking soft in her morning-after glow.

Harry started singing along for her, and she giggled at the unexpected serenade, complete with a couple twirls around and a kiss on her cheek. He set his phone aside once the song was over, and he made them both cups of tea while she fixed herself her own cereal.

“Thanks for doing the cats, babe,” Taylor smiled at him, spooning some cornflakes into her mouth.

“Well, after Olivia stepped on my face, I couldn’t really ignore her,” Harry shrugged, smiling at the sound of her laugh as he took a careful sip from his mug.

“Welcome to my life.”

“Is it too late for me to run?” he teased, and she tapped her fist against his abs when he stepped towards her.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Taylor declared, a grin on her lips as her hand rested on the nape of his neck and she pulled him into a good morning kiss, his arms wrapping around her and holding her close.

“So,” she said when she broke away, her warm eyes meeting his. “What do you wanna do today, roomie?”

“Anything,” Harry grinned genuinely. “Anything at all with you.”

This was love, and it really was easy.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

The next four months were a whirlwind of unbelievable luck that ended with Harry sitting in his boss’ office on a Friday morning.

> _“Like many before, we’re saying goodbye to one of our own as they venture out into another aspect of their field. At_ A.N.Y., _we like to take chances on young talent, and it is just as exciting to see those creatives taking chances on themselves. Truth be told, from the first time I heard out music man Harry Styles sing a tune in our office, I suspected we would lose him to the stage sooner or later. I am not the only one who held such an inkling. With his young Mick Jagger-esque good looks, our fashion director had him pinned for a spread the moment he stepped into our team, and I’m very proud his first photo shoot (January’s A/W ‘Rock Revival’) was with his_ A.N.Y. _family. I’m confident it won’t be his last._
> 
> _Styles’ writing talent extends journalistic: he’s co-written each of the tracks on his debut EP,_ ‘Skylight’ _, available October 6. If you’re a part of New York’s music scene, particularly the venues we at_ A.N.Y. _favor for finding undiscovered artists, chances are you’ve already seen him perform them live. If not, take a look for the next open mic night: he’ll be there, until he heads back to his homeland for his first touring experience later this month. Anyone lucky enough to be heading to Europe and Australasia over the next three months should book tickets for another artist whose star is rising: fellow Englishman and best friend Ed Sheeran, whom Styles is opening for. It will be a show of acoustic pop I can only hope will make its way to the States when these two gain the success I’m certain their honest song-writing will earn them._
> 
> _It is a pleasure to watch the team flourish in their individual ways, and Styles has been no exception. I speak for everyone when I say he will be missed, his genuine charm and quick wit having been an enjoyable part of our days here for the last twenty months. No doubt will these attributes and more win him fans worldwide._
> 
> A.N.Y. _will not be quite the same without Styles, but his voice is one that will not – and should not – be silenced. We wish him all the best in this new chapter of his life, and we hope you will support him just as much as we do. I can assure you, Harry Styles is going to be a name known outside of the New York (and his native London) indie scene, and we can say we knew this enchanting young man first.”_

Liza slid a tissue box towards him once he finished reading, his eyes having turned to glassy green pools. Harry pressed a tissue to his eyes thankfully, giving his nose a blow, too. When he’d been asked into her office, he hadn’t been expecting this. _A.N.Y._ was a tight family, but he didn’t realise he was about to get a tribute in next month’s issue – his _last_ issue.

Choosing to leave had been an incredibly tough decision. Ever since he had moved in with Taylor, Harry had had a sudden spike in his musical endeavours. With song-writing sessions at classes here and with Ed and some of his friends via Skype, he’d started coming up with some pretty decent stuff, decent enough that he had started performing at open mic nights with his own material. While he’d had more than a few doubts, he was well received, and his Instagram account had gained a surprising number of followers; he already had more than he had ever imagined ever since he started at _A.N.Y.,_ and the figure only seemed to be growing.

During the start of summer, Harry had managed to sway his way into getting two weeks off from work so he and Taylor could have the road trip they had made a pact to go on. They had driven across to the east coast, soaked up the sun in California and picked up Ed, who was in LA for some work stuff, and drove back home with him in the backseat of Taylor’s car. They had taken a pile of Polaroids, eaten at a ton of restaurants and food trucks, constantly listened to music. Taylor got along with Ed fantastically, as he’d always suspected she would, and the whole trip was one of the best experiences he’d had since moving here.

It was while Ed was over that Harry was finally convinced into taking the chance on his own talent. After a New York-based company had turned him down, Ed helped him set up a video meeting with the label he was signed with and he scored his own contract, much to his mind-blown delight. Since then, he’d had the chance to record a couple of songs for an EP in an intimate studio in New York, had Camryn take the photographs for it, and secured his spot as the opener for Ed’s European tour that he suspected Ed had been saving especially for him all this time.

As much as he was reluctant to say goodbye to his secure journalism career, there wasn’t really any other option once he signed the deal to tour with Ed. He couldn’t expect to take three months off and jump right back into things as if nothing had changed. He’d only be delaying the inevitable.

Harry was officially a musician, and when he came back after the tour, he intended on finding any old job (in a bakery, perhaps?) while he worked his way through his first album, which he was being encouraged to get out next year. From there, who knew what was next.

It was exciting times, but it didn’t make leaving the life he had formed here any easier.

“Thank you,” Harry said genuinely, nodding over at Liza sitting on the opposite side of her desk, balling the tissue in his fist. “Thank you, honestly. I can’t tell you what that means to me. Everyone here – you’ve helped me find my place here, always made me feel really welcome and like I belonged. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to go.”

“You should,” Liza stressed, her bangles jangling as she clasped her hands. “You’ve got an incredible opportunity in front of you that would be crazy to pass up. And you’re always welcome back here. We always need musicians to write about, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he nodded again. “Thank you for your faith in me. I really didn’t think I’d get this job in the first place.”

“I have some words of advice before you go,” Liza smiled back at him, leaning forward on her desk. “Find some more of that faith in yourself. You didn’t get here without having a gift.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Harry’s going away party was a pretty great one. On a Saturday night towards the end of September, he and his friends crowded a bar to celebrate. It wasn’t the first time he had his friends from work and not all together – the other being his birthday, which had involved a lot of drunken rejoice. This night looked like it was going to turn out rather the same, only with greater amounts of reminiscing.

“You know what I’m not going to miss?” Jared said, throwing his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Your FIFA thrashing. I’m gonna go back to playing with Eric – he’s shit.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to come to your house specially to kick your arse,” Harry grinned at him, wiggling his eyebrows challengingly. “There’s no escaping it.”

Jared groaned, but Harry knew he was right: Jared _was_ going to miss him now that he had packed his desk, the potted pot he’d first been teased about now decorating the kitchen counter in his and Taylor’s flat. The two of them had been the mischievous buddies of the office, and while Harry wasn’t saying goodbye for good, he knew it wouldn’t be same for Jared – for any of them at _A.N.Y._ – without him there every day.

“You know what _I’m_ not going to miss?” Harry continued their teasing; they all had a few beers in them by now. “Your theories. I can’t name _one_ that was even true.”

“Dude, she’s sitting right next to you,” Jared argued, pointing towards Taylor on Harry’s opposite side, who raised her brows at the boys.

“I’m not even gonna ask what this theory was,” she said, shaking her head.

“There were many,” Jared informed her.

“You don’t want to hear _any_ of them,” Harry insisted. She had never been told about the whole porn star thing, and he was praying that she never would be. He didn’t think it would go down well (pun intended).

Taylor had been nothing but supportive over the last few months. She attended all of his open mic performances, listened to everything he asked her to critique and offered genuine advice, had even gotten her name listed under writing credits on some songs that she had helped him work his way through with her poetic mind. Things were going _really_ well between them: they’d settled into living together fairly easily, figuring out when they wanted to be in each other’s company and when they needed to be alone. They got into the occasional argument, but nothing major. Really, Harry was the happiest he had ever been here in New York.

And now he was leaving. For months.

While Taylor didn’t outright tell him that she was apprehensive about him going, not wanting to come across as if she wasn’t proud of and excited for him, he could tell that she wasn’t quite so bubbly these days. Whenever he asked her if she was alright, she always answered yes with a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He’d never done long distance before, and that look didn’t exactly fill him with confidence.

Later, while Taylor and Emilia went off to the bathroom, Harry managed to catch Karlie alone as they went to the bar for refills. If Taylor wouldn’t talk – she’d been quieter than usual all night, actually – she was his next best bet.

“I wanted to ask you in person,” he started, looking up at the blonde as they leaned against the bar, waiting to be served. God, Karlie was so tall when she had heels on. “What’s up with Taylor? I mean, I _know_ what’s up, but… she seems… _off_. Like something other than the tour is bothering her.”

“Have you tried talking to her?” Karlie asked, peering further down the bar at the guy working behind it. He was whipping up someone else’s drink, giving her the perfect opportunity to avoid Harry’s eye contact.

“Of course I have. She just shrugs me off saying she’s okay. Has she said anything to you?”

Of course she had. Taylor and Karlie were best friends: they talked about everything together. _Everything_. There didn’t seem to be such a thing as oversharing, if the private conversations he’d overheard in pieces were anything to go by.

Karlie glanced towards the bathrooms, sighing as she looked back at Harry. “She loves you. A _lot_. Of course she’s scared about you leaving.”

“Scared?”

He frowned, and he didn’t get any more from Karlie until after they were served by the bartender, both of them getting two new cold beers. She tried to get out of elaborating, but she couldn’t ignore his persistent stare for long.

“She’s scared you’re going to leave and find someone else, okay?”

“I don’t _want_ anyone else,” he stated adamantly, only not to the person who really needed to hear it.

“She _knows_ that. I know she does, but she hasn’t exactly had the best track record with guys. You’re not gonna hurt her, but I get why she’s worried.” Karlie held up a stern finger, a playfulness in her smile as she added, “You better not hurt her.”

“I’m not going to,” Harry swore, resting his hand over his heart.

“Just… make sure she knows how you feel, you know?” she guided, picking up the pint she’d bought for her and the one for Josh.

When they returned to the table, Harry gave Mallory the drink he had ordered for her before sitting back down in his spot. Taylor was back, too, and he silently slipped his hand into hers, holding their interlaced fingers under the table. She smiled at him softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, and she didn’t ever want to let go, not with the fond way he absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over the top of hers all through the continuing conversation.

They shared the beer, Harry having a bit more than she did. He was buzzed, but even if he was completely sober, he still would’ve leaned in and asked her to dance when the band finished up their set and a jukebox against the wall was a free-for-all.

Excusing themselves, Harry led her over to the music machine, searching his pockets for a quarter to drop in. Taylor crossed her arms as she leaned against the side of it, watching him and not the track list he was scrolling through; he wanted the song he chose to be a surprise. He took a while to decide, and when she started bouncing on the spot in impatience, he beamed at her and finally pressed select on a song.

Moments later, ‘The Lovecats’ started playing out the jukebox, and Taylor split into a genuine grin, laughing.

“You can’t dance to this,” she said, and he took her by the hand again.

“I’m dedicating it to you – we’re dancing.”

Like they were home alone, Harry danced with her, a hand on her lower back and his other still holding hers. He swayed her and twirled her, gaining amused looks from random people around who weren’t as uninhibited as they were. Their friends looked on joyously, happy to see the two of them enjoying themselves together while they still had the chance.

Harry sang the cat-themed song just for her, and he made Taylor forget, just for a little while, that anything was changing between them at all.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Days later, they were sitting in the departure lounge at the airport, and it felt an awful lot like they were repeating last Christmas’ goodbye, only worse. _Much_ worse.

They hardly spoke all morning, through breakfast, through the car ride to the airport, through the wait for his boarding call. What could they say when “I miss you already” was hanging above them like an unwelcomed rain cloud?

They fell into each other’s arms when the morning London flight was announced, grabbing onto each other tightly. Taylor buried her face in his neck, and her body shook slightly in his embrace as she tried to contain her emotions. Her resolve didn’t last long: tears quickly began dripping down her cheeks, and she was all out crying by the time Harry cradled the back of her head, his other arm fixed firmly around her waist. Oh god, he didn’t want to leave her like this.

“It’s gonna be alright, love,” he quietly tried to reassure her. “It’s just a couple of months. We’ll still talk every day. FaceTime, too. I know it’s not going to be the same, but we’re gonna be fine. I promise, love.”

Taylor nodded, pulling back enough to look at him. She helplessly wiped her wet face, her mascara smudging around her eyes, and she wrapped her arms back around his neck as she spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to say goodbye like this.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry sighed, bringing his hands up to cup her pinkened cheeks, tears falling down onto his fingers. “I’d rather not be saying goodbye at all. D’you think you could stuff yourself into my bag?”

Glancing down at the carry-on bag he had at his feet, she cracked a small smile when she met his eyes again. “I’m not a contortionist.”

Harry gave her a proper smile in return; that was the kind of reaction he’d been hoping for. “Maybe you could just sit on my lap for the ride.”

“I don’t think you really want me sitting on you for eight hours straight.”

“No, you’re too boney for that,” he teased, moving his hand back down to rub her lower back. His smile softened, and he tilted his head forward so their foreheads pressed together. “I love you, Taylor. I love that you helped make all this happen for me.”

“It was all you,” she near whispered.

“I never would’ve believed I could really do it without you.”

Over the loudspeakers came another call for his flight, and Harry gave her a comforting squeeze, wiping her face once again before he kissed her, slow and strong and passionate. A kiss that would linger on their lips long after they parted.

“I’m so proud of you,” Taylor made sure he knew. “Tell me _everything_ , okay? And don’t lose this.”

She tapped the ring that was hooked onto a chain around his neck, both silver, the ring one of hers. It was a small token, but it was something of hers that he could keep close to him while the rest of her was oceans away. She had everything back at home, all the clothes he hadn’t packed that she would definitely wear out of longing, and he had this. Small, but something.

“I promise.”

Doing a better job of cleaning her face with a tissue she fished out of her handbag, Taylor followed him along to the gate, waiting beside him for his turn to have his ticket checked. She seemed to have contained herself by then, but he knew her better than that: when he was gone and she was sitting in their apartment all alone, the tears would return, and this time he wouldn’t be there to hold her through. He could only hope that she immersed herself in her own passions, that her friends would stand by her, and it would all turn out fine.

With the all clear to head out onto the plane, Harry gave her one more hug, snuck one more kiss, offered one more smile.

“Later, Tay-ter.”

Taylor’s lips curved up, taking some of the sadness out of her eyes. “That’s still not funny.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

She rolled her eyes, but it was playful. As he walked backwards, he blew her some kisses, and she rested a hand on her heart while the other waved him off. It was still a goodbye, but at least it ended on a good note.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

In the couple weeks before the tour started, Harry crashed on the couch in his old flat, rediscovering the significant difference in sharing close quarters with mates as opposed to a partner. There was the obvious lack of affection (all he had was his imagination and his right hand in the shower, which wasn’t nearly as fun as what he and Taylor regularly got up to together), and there was the teasing when he tried to light a scented candle he’d brought along to remind him of New York. “Big city’s gotten to ya,” Niall had joked, but neither he nor Ed had blown out the vanilla candle. They let him keep doing his thing, just like they had back in uni.

He'd flown to London early to wrap up some EP things, attend some meetings in person, and go through some rehearsals. He had the chance to catch up with his sister; his mum and step dad were planning on heading down to watch the first show.

The closer it got, the more Harry’s nerves seemed to mount. He was practicing daily, even if it was just going over chords on his guitar, saving his voice from any disasters. His calloused fingers were hurting, but he cared more about putting on a good performance than anything else.

It was _much_ bigger than anything else he’d done. It wasn’t like they were playing at Wembley (thank _god_ ), but while Ed was experienced in playing for a crowd of a couple thousand people, Harry had only ever sung in bars. It seemed like such a ridiculous jump, but everyone was convinced that he would be able to pull it off. He had the voice and the charisma to be able to hold an audience for the half hour slot he had been given.

Creating a set list hadn’t been too hard, really. There were the four original songs that were on the EP, plus two covers for those who didn’t know who the fuck he was, which he gathered was going to be most people there. He was probably recognisable as a friend of Ed’s from earlier Instagram pictures, but he wasn’t expecting anyone to really _know_ him. He didn’t have a prominent fan base to be singing lyrics back to him. He was just there to support Ed, and all he was really aiming for was to be the kind of opener that could get a crowd pumped for the real thing.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say up here?” Harry posed an all important question during their last rehearsal, standing in front of a microphone with his guitar. There weren’t many people around, which didn’t exactly set him up for full capacity venues, but he was trying not to think too much about that.

“Just be conversational,” Ed suggested down from the folding chair he’d set up in front of the stage to watch him. “You’ve been to gigs before.”

“Ooh, I know – I’ll tell some jokes,” he thought, ignoring Ed’s groan that he could hear even from there. “Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?” He paused, continuing when nobody answered him. “To get to the bottom.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ed rubbed a hand over his face.

“He’s laughing,” Harry was quick to point out one of the guys working just side of stage. “He laughed, I saw it.”

“Don’t tell that one, mate,” their tour manager, an older man by the name of John, advised him. He was sitting nearby Ed with his arms crossed, and he probably should’ve looked scary with his solid exterior, but he had been nothing but nice to both of them ever since they’d met. One of those tough looking guys that was more like a teddy bear.

“I’ve got a good one that could be like, a finishing joke,” Harry persisted, a grin on his face. “What did one shepherd say to the other?”

“What?” John humoured him.

“Let’s get the flock out of here.”

He got smiles for that one, and he was pretty damn proud.

“Remind me why you insisted on having _him_ along for the ride?” John turned to Ed, teasing.

 _“Because he’s a fuckiiiiing idiiiiiot,”_ Harry sang back tunefully, strumming on the guitar strapped over his shoulder. He was only joking, but when the day of the opening show in London soon came around, he believed it.

He was a nervous wreck, to put it simply. He hadn’t gotten the best sleep the night before, and all his efforts to chill out during the day had been fruitless. No amount of scented candles and cups of green tea and meditating – yes, he even tried _meditating_ – could ease him.

When they were rounded up and sent to the venue a few hours before the doors opened, they both went through soundcheck seamlessly. From all their hours of rehearsal, they were ready for the journey ahead, but while Harry was musically prepared, he didn’t feel at all emotionally ready.

It didn’t help that there were people he _knew_ there to watch. His mum, Robin, Gemma, her boyfriend, Niall, a couple of old mates from uni. Even Taylor was going to be semi present, what with Niall agreeing to hold up his phone through the show so she could see it via FaceTime. He didn’t want to fuck up, but he _really_ didn’t want to fuck up in front of people he cared about. Not to mention the sea of people with smart phones that could record and upload anything that went on, good or bad.

God, he really needed to stop overthinking every little thing.

His phone was buzzing with messages of good luck, which he responded to with dutiful politeness. He didn’t know what possessed his mother to send him pictures of the line outside or of the filled seats once doors opened, but he really wished she hadn’t. He didn’t need a reminder of just how many people were attending that night.

From the floor of one of the backstage bathrooms, Harry did all he could think of left to help settle him: he turned to Taylor.

She didn’t answer the first time he sent her a video chat request, but on the second try she picked up. She was smiling at him from their lounge room, though that look quickly faded when she registered the state he was in.

“What’s going on?”

“I can’t do it. There are a million people out there; I can’t do it.”

He was shaking his head, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. He felt like shit. Sitting on the cold tiles in a public bathroom wasn’t helping, either.

“Don’t say that,” Taylor instructed firmly. “You _can_ do it, Harry. I know it’s bigger than anything you’ve done, but it’s not impossible. It’s a _challenge_. A challenge I know you can ace.”

“You haven’t seen this place, Taylor. It’s fucking huge. I don’t deserve to be playing something like this yet.”

“Bullshit. You’re brilliant, babe.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, studying him. “You need water. Do you have some with you?”

“Um, there’s some back in our room.”

“Just get some straight from the tap, babe, if you wanna stay where you are.”

Her understanding came as a relief, and he set his phone on the counter while he ducked his head under the tap and drank some of the cold water. His face was pale in his reflection in the mirror, and he splashed extra water over it, patting his skin to try to get some colour back. He still looked like he’d been sick, and he knew he could do with some chewing gum, too.

“Okay,” Taylor said once he sat back down in his spot against the wall. “I want you to keep drinking water. It’ll help your stomach.”

“Yeah, and I’ll end up pissing myself on stage,” he muttered, and he gave her a small smile as she rolled her eyes at him.

“You pee _before_ you go on, obviously,” she reminded him. “I’ve got something here that might help your confidence. I’ve been looking on Twitter, trying to see what people are saying before the show, y’know? People are really excited to see you.”

“Yeah?” he said, unconvinced.

“Everyone’s saying really positive things. A lot of them are about how hot you are, but y’know, _I_ already tell you that.” Taylor grinned at him, and god, did he wish she was here in person. “There’s one here: _‘I only heard about Harry Styles not long ago and I’m already ready for him to drop an album’_. Or: _‘Can someone please upload videos of Harry Styles from tonight’_ with an excessive amount of question marks at the end. That’s good, right? People want to see you.”

“S’pose.”

“This one here says, _‘Harry Styles is going to ruin my life I can feel it’_ , which I assume they mean in a good way.”

He laughed a little at that one. “That’s a bit concerning, actually.”

“What’s concerning is the lack of proper grammar on here. I mean, I know it’s Twitter, but it’s not like it’s hard to use correct capital letters and punctuation marks.”

“Alright, Miss Grammar Police,” he teased, making her laugh and turn all her attention back to him, leaving the laptop she had been reading off alone.

“How are you feeling, babe?”

“Absolutely terrified,” he admitted. “But better talking to you.”

Smiling, Taylor blew a playful kiss at the screen. “I should’ve come along with you. I really wish I could be there for you right now, babe.”

“’s okay.”

“You know what you should do? All your nerves? Bring them all together into one manageable ball, and then just… shake it off.” She shook her head, her blonde curls swishing from side to side. Even when he didn’t follow suit, she kept going, holding her phone out as she got up and danced without any background sound. “Shake it off, babe.”

“I don’t think I can shake it off as good as you,” he mused; she looked much cuter than he would doing that.

He heard a knocking sound, and Taylor suddenly stopped her carefree dancing, her face contorting in pain. “Fuck! Oww, fuck,” she cursed, and he watched as she dropped herself back down onto the sofa.

“What did you do?”

“I kicked the table,” she pouted, holding it for a moment before she broke into a smile despite herself, matching his.

“Are you alright?”

“I could do with a kiss.”

Harry kissed his phone screen, the best he could do for her, and it certainly was a good thing there was no one around to see him doing _that_. While everyone was well aware that he was pining for his girl, they needn’t be privy to all the details.

Luckily, he was holding his phone normally in front of him when the bathroom door swung open, someone finally springing him sitting there pitifully on the grey tiles he liked to hope had been cleaned recently. It was John, and he looked down at him with a mixture of relief and irritation.

“Bloody hell, mate, what are you doing in here? We’ve been looking for you; you’re on soon.”

“I wasn’t feeling flash,” he explained, and he got some colour back in his cheeks when his face flushed in embarrassment. He didn’t sound very cool at all.

“You good now?”

“I think so.”

“Then c’mon. We need you.”

“Can I have another minute, please?”

“As long as you hurry up, alright?”

Harry nodded, and after the door closed again and he was alone, he looked back at his phone, Taylor waiting for him quietly.

“I gotta go,” he exhaled, as if she hadn’t overheard the whole thing.

“One more thing first,” Taylor insisted, sitting up straighter. “I want you to repeat after me.”

“This is gonna be cheesy, isn’t it?”

“You betcha,” she beamed. “Now – I am going to own this.”

“I am going to own this,” he repeated, tone flatter than hers.

“I am going to own that stage and everyone is going to love me.”

“I am going to own that stage and everyone is going to love me.”

“I am going to be so incredibly amazing it’ll blow everyone’s minds, and next time I see Taylor, I’m going to get the best blow job that could ever possibly be given as a reward for being so unbelievably fantastic.”

A cheeky grin overtaking his features, Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Can we maybe just skip to the blow job part?”

“You’ve gotta earn it, babe,” Taylor smirked at him, releasing a laugh. “Now go. You’ve got a crowd to wow.”

“Talk later?”

She nodded definitely. “Break a leg, babe.”

“If I somehow end up _actually_ breaking my leg, I’m holding you accountable,” he teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “I love you, Tay.”

“I love you, too.”

Their video chat left him feeling better, but by the time he was standing side of stage all kitted up, he felt like he might hurl again. He couldn’t see the crowd but he could hear them, and there were a lot of voices out there. A _lot_ of voices of people who were about to judge the shit out of him.

The lights went down and there was cheering from the crowd. Harry bounced on his toes, using his last few moments to psych himself up some more. He had worn his favourite pair of boots, an old black pair that had seen better days, yet he couldn’t find it in his heart to replace them with a new pair. He hoped they would grant him some much-needed good luck.

During their soundcheck, Harry had counted how many steps it took to make it from the wings to centre stage where the mic stand was waiting. He was damn glad he did, as it was too dark to make out much of what was going on and he really didn’t want to screw up the simple task of walking up to a microphone.

He made it there successfully, and he took a moment just to close his eyes and breathe. The room was full of energy, the crowd’s excitement thick and pulsing in the air, and he let it seep into his pores, run all through his veins. This was it. He could do it.

With the strum of the first chord of his opening song, there were screams from the audience, and the lights started to come back up and holy shit, _he was doing it._

It was crazy, standing there in front of thousands of people singing a song that he had written on and having people, whether they knew the track or not, sounding enthusiastic back at him. He got through the first song faultlessly and the crowd cheered back at him like he actually was someone who was good at what he was doing.

While the noise died down, Harry glanced over to the side of stage, where Ed was watching him supportively. He mouthed _“holy shit!”_ at him, and Ed gave him a double thumbs-up. He looked back out ahead of him: he could only see the first couple of rows clearly because of the bright stage lights, but he could tell how far the seats extended. It scared him, but it was too late to back down now. He didn’t think he really wanted to, anyway.

Resting his hand on the mic stand, he flashed his best smile at the audience. “Hi, I’m Harry. How’s everyone tonight?” he asked, receiving ecstatic screams in response. “I’m gonna sing a couple songs, if that’s alright with you?” More screams. It was fucking wild. “This one’s one I finished writing in the early hours of a summer morning with one of my friends. You might know him. Might see him later, even. ‘s called ‘Run’.”

The set went unbelievably well. While his nerves did get to him, fumbling some notes, Harry managed to power through with success. The crowd reacted back to him just the way he wanted: with enthusiasm and exactly no foul items thrown at him. Even though he didn’t have every word sung back to him – even his acoustic cover of ‘Layla’ by Eric Clapton that was a nice transition to one of his own softer songs was a bit older than the general audience – it felt such a rush just to be on stage, to be getting himself out there. He walked off with waves and great thanks and a blow of a kiss, loud cheering following him even after he was gone, and he thought he might perhaps sell some EP’s tonight after all.

“Holy shit, man,” Harry was beaming brightly as he disappeared into the wings, pulling out his in-ear and taking off his guitar, letting someone take it for him. “That was fucking _sick!”_

Ed immediately pulled him into a hug, which he fell into in pure relief. “Knew you’d love it.”

“I’m fucking shaking,” he laughed as he broke away, looking down at his trembling hands. It wasn’t fear – it was adrenaline. He felt so completely full of it, like it couldn’t be contained. Like he could just keep doing that again and again.

“C’mere, mate,” John cut in to give him a hug, clapping him on the back. There were hugs all round: from crew that he had gotten to know over the last couple weeks, and from Niall who managed to get backstage in record time to congratulate him, as well as his family who also had backstage passes. When they showed up, he pretended that the drink that had been handed to him wasn’t actually tequila.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” Anne gushed as she wrapped him up in her arms, tears in her eyes. It wouldn’t surprise him to hear that she had already been crying. “You were amazing up there.”

“Thank you. It was crazy up there,” he grinned, turning to his sister next.

“Don’t go celebrating too hard tonight,” Gemma warned.

“You’re very welcome to join us. We don’t party _that_ hard, you know.”

 _“Sure,”_ she replied sarcastically; she knew the real reason why he had chopped off half his hair, while their parents didn’t. He knew she wouldn’t spill it now – Gemma wasn’t like that.

They each returned to their seats before Ed went on, and Harry got himself settled in the wings to watch, drink in his hand and John at his side. Taylor had sent him a series of over-enthusiastic texts in all-caps, and he thanked her in one; they’d FaceTime again later. She’d convinced Niall into letting her see the rest of the show, and he was sure she was incredibly thankful for his help, especially since the two had never even met.

Ed was fantastic, but Ed always was. He had a talent for crafting remarkable songs, had the voice and the playing skills to match. The crowd loved him, and, just like every other time he had watched him play, Harry swelled with pride for his friend. He just couldn’t believe all this was something he was able to share with him, in a whole new and thrilling way.

They celebrated with drinks at a local dive, none of them feeling at all tired, exhilarated from their successful first night. And to think, they had weeks ahead of them that would feel just like this.

When they retreated back to the flat in an Uber, Niall and Ed crashing in their respective rooms, Harry got himself as comfortable as he could on the couch, a blanket tucked up around him, and he finally reconnected with Taylor, ensuring he kept quiet.

She filled up his phone screen, looking at him with unadulterated joy. “I am _so_ in love with you,” was the first thing she said, and he spent the rest of his perfect night talking softly to his girl until he was overcome with sleep, feeling far greater than he had ever imagined.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Life on the road with one of his best mates was like a dream come true. It was travelling and writing, playing and drinking, teasing and mucking around. It wasn’t quite sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll – the closest Harry got to getting laid was Skype sex, which wasn’t so much sex as it was sharing a fantasy together on different beds in different continents. Not that the opportunity hadn’t presented itself more than once, random girls flirting with him when they went out, but it never occurred to him to ever do anything about it. He might not have seen his girlfriend in weeks, but his mind was still very much fixed on her, her, _her_.

The newfound attention he was receiving was kind of weird for him, though, if he was honest. While writing for _A.N.Y._ had given him a profile of sorts, he didn’t think anyone actively followed him and what he got up to, not in a I’m-dedicated-to-you-and-all-your-interests-and-everything-you-do kind of way. But now he was getting comments on his old Instagram pictures and tweets sent to the account he had only set up because his management told him to as if he was somebody whose life was worth watching.

He wouldn’t say he was famous, not even close. He’d been asked for a selfie for the first time ever by a teenage girl while they were in Manchester, which had been pretty damn surreal considering he had just been at the supermarket like any other normal person. The girl had been impossibly polite, complimenting him on his music and wishing him luck for the future, and he made her day with the modern-day signature and his promise to follow her on Twitter. She hadn’t known it, but she had made _his_ , too.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, though. There were comments made about him – and Taylor, for that matter – that weren’t so nice, but he was trying to adopt her Shake It Off philosophy and just keep doing his own thing. Even if his own thing was pissing himself off with his inability to write anything he thought was any good.

Harry wanted to work on some new material while he was immersed in such a musical environment, but he found himself penning more shit songs than good ones. Perhaps he was being hard on himself, but when he was on tour with such a talented songwriter, it wasn’t all that surprising his standards had increased.

He was just trying to embrace the experience as much as he could, really. It reminded him a bit of uni, with nights spent with a bunch of lads and a bit of contraband, women coming and going, but it was like nothing else he had ever done. He knew for sure this was what he wanted: to record his own albums and tour the world with them, seeing new places and meeting new people.

There was just one thing that had him hesitating: Taylor. It was hard enough on them suddenly now not having their usual constant contact, he was struggling to imagine what it would be like if all this became a regular thing for him. There was a push for a North American leg of the tour, dates already in the works, and Harry knew he would be foolish to pass it up, especially for a girl. Even if this girl was quite possibly the girl of his dreams.

The thing was, Taylor was nothing but supportive of him. She never once complained that it sometimes took him ages to reply to her messages, never tried to make him feel guilty for going off and living his life in a new way. He knew that if he really needed her, she wouldn’t think twice about dropping everything and getting on a plane to see him. That was a power he both revered and wasn’t so sure he wanted to have.

In spite of their general optimism with each other, they were both dealing with the change privately in their own ways. While Taylor sat at her typewriter with his growing collection of vinyls playing in the background, wrapped up in shirts that still smelled like him, Harry often looked over the couple of Polaroids he had brought along with him, found himself playing with the ring of hers that always hung around his neck. He occasionally smelled her perfume on other women, was caught by a sudden swell of longing for her. Being able to see her daily was a luxury he sorely missed.

In fear of appearing ungrateful, Harry kept himself from openly showing his emotions towards the matter. Instead of sulking and whining about how it was Just So _Hard_ to be away from his significant other – plenty of their crew were in the same boat, and no one else was complaining – it was when he was alone that he let things slip, that he let himself truly miss Taylor and the simple pleasure of being in her company. It was mainly at night, when he lay in a hotel bed alone – not including Ed, who was almost always in a neighbouring bed as neither of them were big enough stars to warrant everyone getting separate suites – that he missed her the most, missed the way they never seemed to stray far from each other in the night, missed how she snuggled so perfectly in his arms and how she would let him be the little spoon because sometimes what he needed was just to be held, too. He even missed being occasionally disturbed by cats’ paws treading on his face, because it meant that Taylor had been the last thing he had seen before he had fallen asleep and she was the first face he saw when he woke up.

In a late afternoon in Edinburgh, Harry slipped out of the backstage lounge to answer a call from Taylor, ignoring that he was due for soundcheck soon, thinking he had as much privacy as he could ask for as he sat in an empty stairwell. With his phone pressed to his ear, he leaned against the wall and listened to her voice. They only really spoke this way when they were totally on their own, and he developed an illusion of solitude sitting there by himself, Taylor’s voice the only sound he was focused on. He fingered the Polaroid that he pulled out of the back pocket of his jeans – he was carrying it for luck for the show tonight – and he just _missed_ her, could hear it just as clearly in her voice, too.

He didn’t notice that Ed had come looking for him. How much of the conversation he had overheard, he couldn’t be sure; Ed only sat down beside him after he had set his phone face down on the step, his head resting in his hand, the other still holding the Polaroid.

“Everything okay?” Ed asked him quietly, and Harry was quick to sit up, running his hand through his hair and clearing his throat before he spoke.

“Yeah,” he answered, his brow furrowed as it was whenever he was in thought. “Yeah, just, um. Olivia’s sick – she’s gonna be fine, the vet gave her some stuff for it, but Taylor’s pretty upset about it.”

“I can imagine.” As a cat man himself, Ed had been added to the lucky list of people who received pictures of the Scottish folds, as well as random other videos and memes Taylor stumbled across.

“Not that I particularly like the idea of cleaning up cat puke, but it’d just be nice to be there for her, you know?” Harry gave a small smile, hoping it looked authentic.

Ed nodded, pausing in consideration. “How are you two?” he asked, but it wasn’t in a prying way. He genuinely wanted to know if things were alright.

“It’s… different,” Harry slowly replied, glancing at the picture in his hand. It was one he’d taken of Taylor, from their first Valentine’s Day. Instead of taking her out, Harry had cooked her an intimate candlelit dinner, both of them dressed up as if they were in a swanky restaurant. They’d gone out to an ice creamery afterward, and that’s where he had taken the Polaroid: outside the shop, the wind blowing her curls in her face, making it awfully hard for her to eat the chocolate and cookie dough scoops on her cone. She was shivering in her little black dress and Harry was laughing at her trying to flick her hair out of her face, and he’d taken her camera out of her bag so he could snap a candid shot of her looking so _real_ , with her giggling smile and wisps of hair across her face, too-big ice cream in hand. He loved it, like she loved the matching picture of him checking out the dribble of pistachio ice cream that had somehow found itself down the front of his suit jacket.

“’s just, like. We’re so close, you know? It’s weird not seeing her all the time,” Harry confided, setting the Polaroid down on top of his phone.

“But you’re managing alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re going well.”

Silence dropped between them, and Harry picked at a loose thread hanging from the rip in his jeans that exposed his right knee.

“You don’t have to keep to yourself, you know,” Ed soon spoke up, glancing his way kindly. “It’s alright to talk about it.”

Harry looked back at him pointedly. “You don’t _really_ want to hear about my love life.”

“If you need someone to listen, I will.”

That was something he had always loved about Ed: he was honest and a good listener, wasn’t one to pass judgement. He was so easy to get along with, just the kind of friend you wanted. Harry knew that he could always turn to him, but he hadn’t wanted to be a bother.

Facing his head back forward, gazing absently down the stairwell, Harry contemplated how to express what he was feeling. It was easier keeping quiet, for sure.

“It’s just… I really miss her, you know?” he finally voiced, wetting his lips with his tongue. He could do with a swipe of lip balm. “Like… Have you ever met someone who makes you feel… everything? I know it sounds crazy, but–”

“You love her.”

“I’m so fucking in love with her.” Harry looked back at Ed, his green eyes piercing with his sincerity. “I’ve never met anyone that makes me feel the way that Taylor does. What we have… it’s not like anything else. And I know that like, I’m hardly all that experienced in relationships, but this… I can _feel_ the difference. ‘s nothing like it was with Jacqui. I mean, for one, I know Taylor would _never_ do what she did. And I think, like, I really look up to her, like she’s _such_ a genuinely good person and she’s so passionate and determined and they’re things I want to be too, you know? Being with her makes me want to be the best me. And that’s what love’s supposed to be, eh? It’s bringing out the best in each other and accepting the parts that aren’t so great and loving them anyway. I know it’s crazy and I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, but I really feel like Taylor might be…”

Releasing a sigh, Harry let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, finishing itself. He had never admitted it to anyone, and it felt so deeply personal, like he was exposing himself and begging to be judged. He was only twenty-three, but he didn’t think it mattered all that much. You didn’t get to choose when you fell in love.

Much to his relief, Ed didn’t try to tell him he was insane for feeling the way he did, not like some people he knew might. He didn’t try to make him see things ‘realistically’, he just accepted them, because really, who was he – who was _anyone_ to be telling other people whether their feelings were valid or not.

“I think you’re very lucky to have her in your life,” Ed eventually responded, offering him a gentle smile.

“You’re fucking right about that,” Harry laughed, running his hand through his hair. “It’s just a bit hard being away from her for so long, you know?”

He nodded. “You two sound like you can figure it out, though.”

“Yeah, I think so,” he smiled back hopefully. “It’ll be nice to go back home again, though, when all this is done.”

He didn’t even realise quite what he’d said: that home had become wherever Taylor was.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

When Harry was interrupted from his nap in a hotel in Paris, he wished he had thought to hook the Do Not Disturb sign on the door before he had crashed. They had arrived at midday, and he knew he should be out exploring the city in the short time they were staying there, but he had been left feeling tired after the ride over and had taken advantage of the small, single room he had been granted during their stay. The double bed wasn’t the most comfortable, but was fine for him to get some quick shut eye.

Raking his hands through his messy hair when he sat up, trying to look a bit more presentable before he answered the door – not that he thought he was going to find anyone particularly judgemental on the other side, unless it was someone who had the wrong room number and was going to be sorely disappointed by the sight of him in his wrinkled white t-shirt and old jeans.

He hadn’t quite fully woken up when he trudged over to the door, rubbing his eye as his other hand reached for the door knob, swinging the door open lazily.

He swore to god he was still asleep. There was no other logical explanation as to why he was standing face to face with the last person he expected to be on the other side of the door.

 _“Taylor?”_ he said, incredulous, and sure enough, she was very real as she stretched her arms out either side of her, posing as if saying ‘It’s me! Here! In the flesh!’. She laughed, her beautiful laugh he hadn’t heard in person in nearly two months now, and a smile stretched so wide across his face his dimples were on full show as he stepped forward and enveloped her in a long-awaited hug. “What are you _doing_ here?”

“Like I was gonna miss Paris!” Taylor laughed again, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight embrace. “Plus, not seeing you in so long was driving me crazy,” she added, her hand tangling up in his hair as she pulled back just enough that their lips were able to meet in a long, hungry kiss that was far too much for the two of them to be showing off in the hallway.

“How’d you know we were here?” Harry thought to ask her, barely breaking from her lips as he spoke. Taylor was the one who leaned back, turning her head down the hall, and when he followed her gaze, he found Ed peeking out from his neighbouring room, watching them with a pleased yet a little put off smile. “You _knew?”_

“She told me not to tell you,” Ed simply shrugged.

Looking back at Taylor, his voice was low and flirty as he started to say, “You cheeky little–” before she interrupted by giving him another highly anticipated kiss. Ed didn’t stick around to find out how much it might escalate from there.

They had the sense to slip inside the privacy of his room, despite their ecstatic shock to see each other that was overtaking their entire beings. Harry wheeled her suitcase inside for her, leaving it at the end of the bed near his own. The suite wasn’t flash, just a basic room, the only sign that anyone was occupying it being his zipped-up suitcases, the crinkled bed cover, and the newspaper left open on the little table.

“Crossword tire you out?” Taylor teased when her eyes landed on the paper’s puzzle page as she took in the room. She started kicking off her sneakers and she grinned at him.

“Sudoku, actually. It was a hard one, didn’t finish it until I got here,” Harry explained, stepping the few paces over to her and wrapping his arms back around her waist, pulling her in. “I can’t believe you’re here. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You’ve got your just-woke-up look on,” she smiled, pinching him on the arm. “You’re not dreaming.”

“No, but now my arm stings,” he countered, and god, had he missed the way she smiled at him whenever she found something he said amusing. “How long have you been planning this?”

“I only booked a flight a couple days ago. I couldn’t wait for you to come home, so I thought I’d come to you.”

“Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?”

“Not recently enough.”

Harry kissed her again, making her giggle into his mouth as he moved his hands down to the backs of her thighs and lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he spun her around.

Amazing. Absolutely amazing.

In the last few minutes, Harry’s mood had skyrocketed, an effect Taylor had always seemed to have on him. She was _just_ what he needed, the pick-me-up to have him going on strong for the upcoming shows. He was enjoying himself, for sure, but all the hours spent crammed in a tour bus did take its toll.

She looked as beautiful as ever. In dark-hued jeans and soft long-sleeved top, her hair hanging in untamed curls below her shoulders, Taylor managed to turn a comfortable outfit into something stunning, her pink lips in a permanent smile. The smell of her perfume filled his nose and as they collapsed down on top of the cream-coloured blanket covering the bed, he wanted nothing more than to drown himself in her, to reacquaint themselves and lose himself in everything he loved about her.

In the way he pictured them reuniting, Harry imagined himself being impossibly charming, but her surprise had rendered him speechless, his words replaced by eager kisses. She didn’t seem to care that his first reaction wasn’t to sit down for a long chat, rather she preferred this, the press of bodies against each other a feeling they both missed immensely.

Over the last few weeks, they had had to adjust to the distance between them, which when it came to the physical stuff, had been a bit of a tricky thing to work around. While Harry had no hesitation in baring all and showing himself off via video chat, Taylor had taken a while to warm up to the concept. He didn’t really care: he never wanted to pressure her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with. He’d even felt kind of bad when he initiated the whole thing with the inappropriate Snapchat he sent her out of impulse, and he’d been quick to let her know it wasn’t necessary for her to give him anything in return. It was his genuine care and her fierce trust in him that had convinced her that a little fooling around while they Skyped each other was nothing to be feared (her scandalous birthday present had certainly come in handy as of late); permanent pictures of herself weren’t something she would ever consider sending, though, no matter how much she believed in him.

Nothing they could do alone was nearly as good as the real thing together, though. It didn’t take them long to rid each other of their clothes, heat coursing through their bodies with every inch of their bare skin that connected. Harry’s hands wandered all over her body, remembering every soft curve and the reactions he earned for every caress. He couldn’t get enough of her.

His heart pounded fast as they slipped out of their underwear and he pushed himself inside her; it had been so fucking long since they had done this and he swore she felt even better than last time.

“Oh my god,” Taylor exhaled, bringing her hands to his face and pulling him back into an impatient kiss.

Their sense of urgency was multiplied, far greater than their usual way. Intensity burned brightly between them, Harry’s fingers gripping her hips so firmly they threatened to leave bruises behind as he thrusted hard into her. He reached deep inside of her and it had Taylor digging her fingernails into his back, eliciting moans and messy kisses. There was a squeak in the mattress and neither of them gave a fuck, nor did it occur to them that perhaps the walls might not contain their pleasured sounds.

Good luck to anyone who got stuck staying next to them through their travels.

A light sheen of sweat glistening over his tattooed chest, Harry squeezed his eyes shut as Taylor tugged too hard at his hair as her orgasm overtook her, his own hitting him like a shockwave that spread right through to his extremities. He collapsed on top of her, bodies flush, panting to catch their breath.

When he managed to regain some composure, Harry rolled off her, staring up at the off-white ceiling and wondering how on earth his life had become so freaking fantastic.

Taylor turned onto her side, her fringe falling into her eyes as her hand rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat that was slowing to its normal pace. “You sure know how to give a girl a warm welcome,” she smiled at him breathlessly, and he laughed so honestly she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in to kiss him.

“I, um. I was planning on controlling myself a bit more than that when I came home,” he admitted, cheeks rosy.

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Taylor giggled, lips pressing to his again. Harry moved his hand atop hers, smiling at her when she pulled back. “I’ve missed you so much,” he sighed, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her fingers fondly. “How long can you stay?”

“Almost two weeks. It was the best I could do on short notice.”

“Did you really just, like, book a flight one day?”

She nodded. “I’ve been saving. I didn’t want to miss out on a taste of my rock star boyfriend’s wild new life.”

“Wild?” he laughed. “Oh, yeah, it’s real fucking wild. I was taking a wild nap before you showed up.”

“Very rock ‘n’ roll,” Taylor grinned, slipping her hand out of his and running her fingertips over the short prickles of dark hair above his upper lip. “What is this? Have you been too busy with your newfound fame to bother to shave? Or are you trying to look more hipster?”

“Shut up,” he giggled, trying to slip away from her teasing touch and only succeeding in making her laugh.

“It’s kind of sexy, actually,” she admitted, smirking just a little. “Just don’t take it further. _Can_ you even take it further?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

The sound of her laughter, the feel of her lips peppering kisses over his cheek, along his jaw and down his neck, filled him with a flurry of absolute warmth. He didn’t really care that she made fun of him – that was their dynamic, and more than anything else he was unbelievably happy that she had come all this way to see him. That he really meant that much to her.

“I believe I owe you something,” Taylor purred in his ear, and he didn’t quite understand what she meant at first, not even as she rubbed her hand over his inner thigh. Not even as her fingers ghosted up over his balls and up his cock, hardened again.

She shuffled down and licked him from bottom to top, and oh– _oh_. He remembered now.

Settling herself between his legs, Taylor was painfully slow in her movements. She licked him leisurely, like she had all the time in the world to savour the action of pleasuring him. This wasn’t her favourite thing to give, but she loved the reactions she got out of him, knew how much it blew his mind to have her mouth on him.

The way Taylor watched him as she worked her tongue over him drove Harry crazy. She swirled her tongue around his tip and kept a hand wrapped around the base, her moan when she took him back into her mouth reverberating right through him and getting one out of him, too. She bobbed her head and pumped her hand over what she couldn’t fit into her mouth, and he tried his best not to buck his hips up, but even when he did, she embraced it, taking him deeper.

Harry balled his fists in the blankets, breathing heavily and unable to keep himself quiet. When a spurt of pre-come escaped him, Taylor pulled off him and made sure he was watching as she teasingly circled the tip of her tongue over the end of his cock, the intensity of the lust in her eyes letting him know she knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him.

For a brief moment, she sat up and pulled away completely, and he was about to tell her he was too fucking close for this game when he saw her slip her hand between her legs, moaning desperately as she hurriedly rubbed herself, coating her fingers in her arousal for when she quickly wrapped them back around Harry’s length, pumping face and slick.

“Holy shit, Tay,” he groaned, louder when her mouth returned to him and she swirled her tongue, tasting herself on him, keeping her hand moving. She knew him perfectly; she didn’t have to be warned before his hips bucked and he filled her mouth with a burst of come, a far too loud moan that had been growing deep inside him finally set free.

In amongst his euphoria, he saw Taylor’s incredibly proud expression as she swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She crawled up and kissed him through his breathlessness, the taste of him on her lips, and all he could do was laugh when she innocently asked, “How was that?”

He wrapped his arms back around her, kissing her long and open. “You’re fucking amazing,” he told her, voice sexy and rough.

Taylor smirked against his lips. “You know what’s _really_ going to be amazing? What we’re gonna get up to in all these hotel rooms.”

“Shit, babe.”

“What’s more rock ‘n’ roll than fucking your girl every night in different beds?”

“God, I fucking love you.”

They kissed with tongues in each other’s mouths and wandering hands, Harry for sure thinking the day was going to be spent catching up like this until Taylor broke away, sitting up on top of him.

“Take me out, babe. I wanna go exploring while we’re here and it’s daylight,” she smiled at him, smoothing her hands over the birds on his chest.

“Okay,” he easily agreed; he’d do anything she wanted.

As his hand moved up her side and cupped her breast, thumb rubbing casually over her nipple, she rolled her eyes, fighting back a sound. “We can do this later, babe. Paris is waiting.”

“Okay,” he repeated, and both of them were grinning as he lifted himself up and started kissing her breast.

They didn’t make it out of the hotel until after one more round, and neither of them seemed to mind.

Wrapped up in coats, they walked the streets of Paris hand in hand like they were living their own kind of fairy tale. Taylor knew far more about the city than he did, and she told him about some history and the arrondissement they were in while they strolled along, checking the map on his phone occasionally to make sure they weren’t getting themselves totally lost.

They planned out how they could spend the next two days, what sites they could see when they had more than just an afternoon to look around. Harry was still in a state of awe that she was actually here, and he couldn’t stop smiling at her, wanting to freshly imprint in his mind what it was like to have her around so that when she had to return home, he wouldn’t forget a thing.

“I wish we had the time to go back to England. Mum’ll be wishing I’d bring you home when I tell her you’re here,” he thought, giving her hand a squeeze. He’d always pictured driving her around, showing her the place he had grown up, and it was a shame they wouldn’t have the chance to squeeze it in while they were closer than they’d ever been.

“Maybe I’ll go by London on my way back. Then I could have a nice little girls’ day with Gemma and your mom,” Taylor suggested, laughing at the look the idea brought to his face. “What? She’d love that!”

“You’re not meeting them without me,” he said firmly, but she just nudged him with her shoulder.

“We’ll see about that.”

They stopped by a cute café for afternoon tea. Taylor sounded very impressive to him as she ordered coffee for the both of them as well as éclairs and a collection of a couple different flavoured macarons in confident French, saving them the trouble of trying to translate. They sat at a round table by the window, holding hands across the tabletop as they chatted, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. The waitress that delivered their delicate china cups and saucers had seen that look thousands of times, and she smiled at them honestly, hopefully. Not everyone who visited the city of love was destined to last, but she always liked to wish the best for the couples who visited the café with twinkles in their eyes.

Deciding that no macaron nor éclair they ate anywhere else would ever compare to ones made by Parisian pastry chefs, they continued wandering around feeling sweetly sated. They found their way to the Eiffel tower, where they weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to take pictures on the stretch of grass in front of it.

“Have I got it?” Harry asked as he stood a few feet away from her, his hand out to the side as he pretended to hold up the tower thanks to the magic of perspective.

“You need to lift your hand up a little. No, not _that_ much,” Taylor laughed at him, holding up her phone ready to take a photo. “That’s better, I think. Just hold it there; there’s someone walking behind you.”

Harry grinned at her when she eventually took the picture, and he skipped over to her to see. It wasn’t perfect, had them both laughing, but it was definitely a keeper.

“D’you think we could ask someone to take a proper one of us together?” he wondered after Taylor tried taking a selfie of the two of them with the tower in the background.

“Sorry I don’t have Elastigirl arms,” she said, giggling as he planted a kiss on her cheek.

They flagged down the next lot of tourists to come near them, who were all too happy to help out. They posed together with the tower in the background, the girl Taylor had trusted with her phone taking a couple of shots in case any turned out blurry, and she was about to return it to them when Harry called out, “One more, please!”

Turning to face Taylor, arms around her waist, Harry kissed her, unashamedly so in front of these strangers. Taylor smiled against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck and popping her foot, making for the perfect romantic photograph for them to look back on.

“Thank you so much,” Taylor smiled at the helpful girl when she took her phone back, blushing a little over their PDA.

“No problem. You two look so good together, like you’re celebrities or something,” the girl replied genuinely, her American accent strong.

“Well, he’s a musician,” Taylor told her, tipping her head towards him proudly.

“Oh my god, really? That’s so cool.”

“He’s playing a gig tomorrow, if you’re interested.”

With her eager nod, Harry gave her the details for the show, not really expecting her and her friends to attend. There was no harm in spreading the word, though.

In return for the photos, Taylor offered to take pictures of their group as well, her typical kindness. They all wished each other good travels, and Harry and Taylor made their way along to the tower itself, joining the crowd of tourists wanting to tick climbing up it off their bucket lists.

“If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve booked us a table at the restaurant,” Harry said, squeezing her hand as they stood out on the top floor, looking out at the city ahead.

“Such a romantic,” Taylor smiled at him, giving him a sweet kiss. “I’m just happy to be with you, babe. I don’t need all that stuff.”

“But you’d like it.”

“I would,” she admitted, laughing. “All I ask is we come back to see it at night with all the lights. Is that okay?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

They stopped by the gift shop as they were leaving, Taylor buying a figurine of the tower to take back home as a decoration for their apartment. They browsed through some local shops, resisting the urge to fill their suitcases with cute new things they didn’t particularly need, Taylor especially. She fell in love with classic French design, finding something she liked in every clothing store they went into.

It was a dress in a shop window that really caught her eye, a pretty little tea dress in a deep red floral print that fell perfectly over the mannequin. Taylor sighed wishfully and led him inside, glancing around until they located more of them on a rack. The material was a gorgeous silk, so soft to touch and clearly well made. Harry could easily see how much she adored it.

“Try it on.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Try it,” he encouraged, plucking her size off the rack and handing the hanger to her.

While she appeared reluctant, Taylor obediently slipped into the small changing cubicle the shop assistant gave her permission to use. She slunk out of her clothes and into the dress, pulling the curtain back moments later so he could see.

She looked stunning, but he had always been expecting that.

“’s perfect, love,” Harry complimented, smiling softly. “’s like it was made for you.”

“You really think so?” Taylor asked, twirling around so he could get a full view. The skirt flowed out, flirty around her thighs, and the rest fitted her snugly at the top, flattering her figure. It was just the kind of delightful dress she loved to wear.

“D’you want it?”

“It’s €200, Harry.”

“And if you want it, you can have it. You’d be surprised at how many posters with my picture on it have been sold.”

“I don’t know I’d be surprised. You’re very handsome.” Smiling, she swayed on the spot, silk swishing around her thighs. “Are you sure it’s okay? I’ve already got a lot of dresses.”

“You came all this way for me, it’s the least I can do.”

“Okay, but I’m buying dinner.”

“I doubt that,” he grinned; he wanted to treat his girl with the good money he was making off the tour, and there was nothing wrong with that.

By the time the sun started to set and they were ready to stop someplace for dinner, they had picked up a couple more shopping bags, just a few small things. Harry hadn’t really done much spending while they’d been on the road, and he was quite happy with the delicately patterned button down he had stumbled upon for a modest price. He was considering it for the next show.

They ate inside a small, nice restaurant they chose spontaneously, nothing too fancy. Their meals were delicious, especially dessert (more éclairs and profiteroles), and in no rush to return to the hotel, they continued strolling around in the pleasantly cool night air, keeping watch for trouble in this city they weren’t familiar with.

All that was missing as they walked along the Seine river, lights glistening on the water and stars twinkling above them, was a dreamy orchestral soundtrack playing in the background. Hands intertwined and wandering perfectly in step, it felt like the epitome of romance. Like, if they were in a movie, this would be their happily ever after scene at the end.

_“Mademoiselle! Monsieur!”_

The call of a man not too far ahead of them broke through their laughter over something Harry had said, and they looked over at him with cautious attention.

“Would you like to sail on one of my boats? Lovers, all should sail the Seine! Come, please!”

What they found as they approached was not some crazy guy yelling out nonsense, but an older man with a couple of row boats tied up underneath a bridge, genuinely looking for some business on a lonely Wednesday night.

“Lovers, where are you from? What brings you here tonight?” the man asked them in accented English, spreading his arms out wide either side of him, joyous and welcoming. He was not the stereotypical snotty Frenchman.

“We’re celebrating a beautiful night,” Taylor smiled at him brightly, giving Harry’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

“Ahh, Americans! You’ve come a long way.”

“Not quite, actually,” Harry said, letting his accent speak for itself.

“My mistake, _monsieur_. But you have found a beautiful, beautiful girl; you’re very lucky.”

“I feel like the luckiest man alive,” he agreed, and Taylor gave him such an adoring smile he thought his heart might burst.

“Would you like to take her out on the river, _monsieur?_ She would love that, no?”

Nodding, Taylor tugged at his arm like an excited little girl. “Can we?”

“Don’t see why not.” He looked back at the man. “How does it work? How do we know when to come back?”

“See that bridge, _monsieur?”_ he pointed a stocky finger ahead of him, over Harry’s shoulder. “When you get to that bridge, you turn and come back. For you, take as long as you want. A beautiful night to take a beautiful girl sailing.”

 _“Merci,_ _monsieur_ ,” Taylor thanked him. _“Vous êtes très aimable.”_

“Ahh, she speaks French! You are a very, very lucky man, _monsieur.”_

Taking the steps down to where the boats were moored, Harry paid the man’s fee before manoeuvring into the closest boat, the small vessel rocking underneath his weight. Taylor passed him their things to keep safe on the floor, and she was uncertain as he held his hand out to help her in.

“C’mon, love.”

“I don’t want it to tip.”

While the boat did rock as she carefully stepped one foot inside, Taylor managed to get in without incident. She sat down on the little bench across from his, their knees bumping in the small space, having to take a moment to configure their long limbs comfortably.

Settled, Harry grabbed the oars, grinning up at the man watching on. _“Merci,_ _monsieur_. We’ll be back soon!”

With a few strokes to get them going, safely away from the wall, Harry smiled across at Taylor as he rowed backwards. “What do you think the chances of capsizing are?” he jokingly asked, and Taylor’s laughter broke through the still air.

They took their time, enjoying being outside in the night sky. It was peaceful, romantic – so damn romantic. The stars in their eyes shone just as brightly as the ones in the sky above.

“You know,” Harry began to say after a while of pleasant silence, and before he had even gotten the words out, Taylor could tell what was coming, that silly little smile on his face she had memorised a long time ago. “A man once jumped into this river. The police said he was in- _Seine_.”

“Oh my god,” Taylor laughed, resting her hand on his knee and rubbing affectionately. “Be careful, or _you_ might end up in- _Seine_.”

“Are you _threatening_ me?” Harry asked in mock horror, breaking into a grin when she rolled her eyes, tipping her chin up and trying to hold back a giggle.

“I think we’ll leave the falling-in-the-water part for the movies.”

When they reached the bridge signalling it was time to turn around, Harry took a short break from rowing, letting the boat slow until it only rocked gently back and forth. He stretched out his arms, shaking them out; he was using muscles he didn’t usually, and it somehow felt more invigorating at night.

Taylor glanced around them, smiling contentedly, and when her eyes landed back on Harry’s, she had him lighting up, his hands resting on her thighs.

“Tay?”

“Prince Harry?” she grinned, giggly as he leaned in closer to her.

“Thank you so much for coming.”

Closing the distance, they kissed on the river, and the next not-quite-two weeks seemed destined to be the best they’d ever had.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

_“Taaaylor. You got me on my knees, Taylor.”_

From the standing pit in front of the stage, Taylor giggled as she leaned against the barrier, a VIP lanyard hanging around her neck, watching as Harry went through soundcheck for the night’s show. His lyric change had her blushing, as if she wasn’t already aware that every song in his set list was for her, covers and originals alike.

“You can’t really sing that.”

“Excuse me, are you interrupting my serenade?”

Sticking her tongue out at him playfully, Taylor grinned up at him, laughing. “Keep going, babe.”

Harry behaved himself through the rest of soundcheck, going through the motions he had come to be accustomed with. With the more practice he got on stage, the more his nerves lessened, but he would be lying if he said he was nothing but confident before a show. He was still afraid of putting on a shit performance, but he was trying to use it more to psych himself up; he wasn’t throwing up out of anxiety anymore, which seemed like pretty good progress in his eyes.

Backstage in the hours before they were set to start, Harry was cheekier with Taylor around. They played around in the halls and the room the lot of them were allocated to lounge in before the show, Ed taking his guitar into another space with a new song brewing in his head and an inability to explore it with the two of them all giggly and gooey-eyed only a few feet away from him.

When they were eventually interrupted, it was by John, finding them very fittingly making out on the couch while ‘Can’t Feel My Face’ was playing through the stereo that had a radio station playing in the background. It was a scene he had walked in on in this business plenty of times, and all he was thankful for was that their clothes were still on.

“Alright, Casanova, it’s almost show time.”

“Is it really?” Harry asked, mumbling away from Taylor’s lips, both of theirs rosy red and swollen and incredibly obvious. They’d completely lost track of time, not that either of them minded when they lost it like _that_.

“It is. You need to be getting ready – Taylor, did you want to watch from the barrier? I can have security take care of you there.”

“Can I really be that close?” Taylor beamed, sitting up straighter in excitement.

“If you’re not going to be a distraction, yes.”

“I promise I was only joking earlier about throwing my bra on stage,” she said, resting one hand over her heart and raising two fingers with her other, Scout’s honour. To her credit, she barely flinched as Harry’s hand secretively moved further down her back and squeezed her ass, though the quirk of her lips, a tiny smirk, didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I don’t want to know about any of that,” John informed them, stepping back from the doorway. “C’mon, you two. Crowd’s getting antsy.”

Taylor followed along at Harry’s side for as long as she could, until she was escorted to where she would be watching the show. She rested her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes before she left, smiling encouragingly as she said, “Break a leg, baby.”

“Not literally,” he grinned, and he had never felt readier after she gave him a good luck kiss.

In the wings, Harry went through his routine: bouncing on his toes, hooking his guitar around him, ducking his head and closing his eyes, taking five slow, controlled breaths, and kissing the ring dangling on the chain around his neck. He fist-bumped Ed, who always supported him side of stage, and he took those counted steps out into the darkness.

As soon as he played the first note, there were screams, and it filled him with an exhilaration he wondered would ever fade.

Without even meaning to, all through his performance, Harry’s eyes drifted over to his left where Taylor was standing, a stocky bodyguard in her vicinity and a photographer also hovering around in the exclusive access barrier between the stage and the audience. That close up, he could see her pretty clearly, and he kept smiling at her, completely unaware that it was something people might notice. Sweetly unaware that there was a lipstick stain on the collar of his new shirt, waiting to be spotted by someone with a keen eye when they looked back over their pictures from the night. At least the other marks Taylor had left him with were hidden.

While their previous night had ended on a wonderfully euphoric high, they had turned back into typical tourists throughout the day, visiting the list of places Taylor had mapped out for them. The Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, Pont de l'Archevêché (even though they couldn’t add a padlock of their own anymore), and they had even had their picture drawn by an artist when they visited some markets. “Love is in the eyes,” the young man had said, and when Harry glanced at Taylor to see her reaction to this revelation, he didn’t realise he was only emphasising the point.

Taylor might not have thrown any undergarments on stage, but someone threw a beret nearby and he happily wore it throughout the rest of the show. The screams were loud when he said, _“Vive la France!”_ into the microphone, a sea of people lurching together when he tossed a guitar pick into the audience. It was fucking wild.

Cheekily, Harry repeated the name change he had made during soundcheck only twice through his cover, and he might’ve gotten away with it had he not started giggling at Taylor midway through. It was adorable, the sound of his laugh and his dimpled smile; he had to force his gaze away from her direction to regain his composure and keep singing seriously, though honestly, there were a lot of people who would’ve been happy just to sit and listen to his infectious laughter. He meant a great deal to a lot of people without really understanding so.

The enthusiastic applause he received after his last song came to an end and he blew kisses at the audience had his ears ringing as he disappeared into the wings, a grin remaining on his face. He set his guitar aside and downed half the contents of a water bottle a crew member handed him, jumping around and shaking out the energy he had built up and hadn’t gotten to use on stage with his acoustic set.

“I fucking love France!” he declared, dropping to his knees, the beret falling off his head as his curls swung wildly.

“Get off the floor, mate.”

John’s instruction only made Harry starfish out on the ground from where he had collapsed down onto his back. John could only shake his head, and perhaps Harry should’ve been a bit more concerned about the dirt getting on his brand new shirt, but he couldn’t find it in him to give a shit. This had to be his favourite stop on the tour so far.

Scrambling to his feet when they were ushered to start heading back to their room out of the way, Harry was soon met by Taylor, who broke away from the security who had brought her backstage. She ran towards him, the soles of her boots tapping loudly on the floor. Jumping up into his arms, she held on tight as he spun her around, laughing in his ear.

“You were incredible! Oh my god, _Harry!”_

“I fucking love you,” he beamed, setting her down so he could kiss her properly, unashamedly intense in front of everyone. Eyes darted away from them, and right then, it felt like there was only the two of them there.

With her hands on either side of his face, Taylor teased him with a flirty little nip at his bottom lip, barely pulling away when she said, “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he exhaled in a rush, kissing her again, holding her as close to him as he could. The only thing better than coming off stage full of vivacity was coming off stage full of vivacity and kissing the woman he loved.

“Just wait ‘til we get back to the hotel,” Taylor broke away to murmur in his ear, smirking as he squeezed his arms around her in approval of her suggestion.

“Why wait?”

Gazes locking, they dared each other. They weren’t normally so impulsive, and perhaps if they hadn’t spent so long apart, Taylor would’ve been his voice of reason, but she just gave a short nod, blue eyes sparkling with spontaneity.

They tried to appear relaxed as they began walking hand in hand, as if nobody could sense the electric air pulsing between them with just one look. They headed down the hall towards their lounge, though they kept on strolling coolly past it, hoping nobody would notice. Neither of them looked back to find out.

With no idea where they were going, they wandered in the hopes of finding somewhere private to slip into, preferably one with a lock. Harry suggested the bathroom, which Taylor was quick to shoot down in disgust. She had standards for her scandalous rendezvous.

Near the back exit, they found a supply closet with an unlocked door, as cliché as it was. They checked the coast was clear before they snuck inside, quickly shutting the door behind them. If anyone asked, they could say they went out for some air, and if anyone needed some cleaning supplies… well, fuck.

There wasn’t a lock from the inside, but it was too risky to turn back and search for somewhere new. Immediately they intertwined again, Harry pressing her up against the door, crashing their mouths back together. Taylor tangled her hand in his hair, her other sliding up the back of his shirt, spreading warmth all over his skin. He wanted more, desperately needed her touch igniting his every sense.

While they were often spontaneous in the privacy of their own apartment, it was rare that they ever did anything like this. Taylor was too afraid of getting caught, and Harry was too respectful to really pressure her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with. But if she wanted it enough, she would make a special exception. She wasn’t as innocent as her sunshiny demeanour suggested.

Taylor let him roll her stockings down around her ankles, pulling her underwear down in the same swipe. He loved the thin row of lacy pattern printed on the thighs of her sheer black tights, just below the hem of her skirt, and it was only now that he wished she hadn’t decided to wear them, since it was too difficult to take them all the way off and get them back on after. They didn’t have the time for any of that, which only seemed to excite them more.

“How’d you–” He swallowed, losing focus as Taylor’s lips found his neck while her hands worked at undoing his jeans. “–want to…?”

“Get on the floor, babe,” she commanded, keeping her voice low.

Realistically, it was rather gross to sit on the floor of a supply cupboard – or any cupboard, for that matter – but in the darkness, it was easy to pretend it wasn’t. Harry obediently dropped down without a second thought, swearing as he accidentally knocked a bucket over in the process, the crash sounding too loud in the confined space. Thankfully, though, the bucket was empty, and no one came rushing to inspect it.

Taylor helped him out of his jeans when he laid as best as he could, rolling them past his knees, easy enough for him to tug back up. The floor was cold against his bare bum but in the moment, he couldn’t care less, not when Taylor climbed on top of him and guided him inside of her after a few quick pumps of his length, her flowy skirt hiding where their bodies joined.

With her hands pressed flat against the floor either side of his head for stability, she started bouncing on him hurriedly, wasting no time.

“Fuck, Tay,” Harry moaned, sliding his hands up her thighs as he watched her, his eyes having adjusted enough to the lack of light.

“Shh,” she chastised, though she was smiling down at him. “You’re such a bad influence.”

“’m not complaining,” he whispered back, and Taylor held back a giggle.

The thrill of possibly getting caught spurred them on, Taylor riding him quick and deep, Harry holding onto her hips as he kept a foot firmly against the door in case anyone went to open it. They tried their best to keep quiet, chewing on their bottom lips to contain their moans, only a few soft sounds slipping through. They didn’t think they were being obvious enough to get sprung.

“Can we switch?” Taylor whispered unexpectedly, still moving on him. “Please, babe?”

Like he was going to say no. They awkwardly repositioned themselves, with Taylor propping herself up on her forearms as Harry tried to figure out how to settle properly with her legs tied together by the stockings around her ankles, restricting how far apart she could open them. It was an impulse decision to hook her legs over his shoulders, and it had Taylor’s mouth dropping in an ‘O’ as she watched him do it.

 _“Harry!”_ she gasped, managing to maintain her low tone despite him pushing himself all the way back inside her.

“You say I’m a bad influence?” he murmured seductively, propping himself above her. “Let’s see if you can keep quiet like this.”

It was almost torturous, and Harry damn well knew it. The last time they had done it like this was in the comfort of their own bed, and as he fucked her hard Taylor had been _loud_. She hadn’t held anything back, and asking her to now only added to the thrill of it all.

Harry didn’t go easy on her. He pounded into her roughly, and as she felt so open with her legs up over his shoulders, Taylor struggled underneath him. She cursed at him and he put his hand over her mouth, yelping when she unexpectedly bit one of his fingers.

It was a game to see who could control themselves best. Taylor tugged at his hair and dug her nails into his back, trying to get back at him for his purposeful adjustment of his hips, having him hitting her most sensitive spot with every thrust. If only they had longer – Harry replaced his hand over her mouth with his lips, kissing her forcefully as she tightened around him, letting their whimpers blend together as they were overcome with complete pleasure.

“Holy shit,” Taylor panted as he retracted, hands unsteady as she hurriedly tried to pull her tights back up. “I can’t believe you.”

 _“Me?”_ Harry said, glancing down at her from tucking himself back into his boxers after he stood and yanked his jeans up in record time. “You started it when you sat on–”

_“Shh!”_

Extending his hand out, Harry helped her to her feet, meeting her with a much gentler kiss. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Taylor smiled back. “We should get back.”

With caution and some damn good luck, they managed to sneak back out into the hall without anybody noticing them. They walked along together casually, secret smiles playing on their lips, parting when Taylor went off to touch up in the bathroom and Harry returned to the lounge. He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his fingers over his plump lips as he looked over at Ed and one of the roadies.

“What’s up?”

“Where’d you go?”

“For a walk. Needed some air, you know?”

Harry grinned, and of course, Ed didn’t believe him, but he really wasn’t going to call him out on it. He didn’t want to know the details.

When it was finally time for Ed to take the stage, Harry and Taylor were escorted through the foyer to the very back of the seating area, where they were still a few available spots. They figured it was safer to sneak in there than to watch from the barrier, where they definitely wouldn’t go undetected; he really didn’t want to cause any kind of scene. As they snuck down a row, security remaining by the door just in case, they got wide eyed stares from the girls they passed, and Harry offered them sunny smiles, praying that they wouldn’t blow his cover.

Throughout Ed’s performance, Harry kept his arm around Taylor’s waist protectively, alternating between watching his friend and his girlfriend. He didn’t really notice that _he_ was getting side-eyed, too – especially didn’t notice that sneaky photos were taken of him and Taylor, that this whole story was going to end up online. He wasn’t used to the attention, wasn’t sure he ever would be.

Before the lights came up after the end of the show, they headed back out, wanting to get out of there before Harry’s presence would really be recognised. A couple of the girls in their row followed out after them, calling out to him while they had the chance. The security guard let them come backstage for a few minutes, away from the other concert-goers, avoiding the crowd that would inevitably build, and Harry was more than happy to chat to them for a little while. It was humbling, receiving the kind of compliments the girls offered him, and he easily agreed to take pictures with them. One asked him to sign her CD, and he patted his back pockets despite knowing he didn’t have a marker with him.

“You got a pen, babe?” Harry turned to Taylor, who had stayed silent all through his interactions with the girls. She nodded, fumbling through the small bag she had hooked over her shoulder that she had been keeping her phone and her lipstick in. She handed him a black Sharpie; she almost always had one with her, just in case.

Harry signed the CD and the back of another girl’s phone case (he’d gotten practice when he’d had to sign a huge stack of posters before the tour started) and he hugged them each goodbye, thanking them for coming to the show. They left feeling happier than ever, and Harry slipped his hand back into Taylor’s once they were ushered back into the foyer.

“Someone’s popular,” Taylor teased, and he crinkled his nose, smiling.

“Nah.”

The girls stole one more glance at him before they left to find him locked in a kiss. He really had no clue just what Harry Styles was beginning to mean to the world.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

It took Harry too long to see the cracks beneath the surface.

Things seemed to be going pretty fucking great as they continued on their schedule with Taylor tagging along. Travelling with her thrilled him – he pictured going out with her on holiday sometime, no shows, no commitments, just the freedom to explore wherever they wanted.

Only, if he continued on this path, that might not even be a possibility.

While they were in Berlin, the lot of them went out to a bar after the show for some celebratory drinks. It wasn’t exactly unusual – they went out plenty of nights in plenty of different places – but Taylor wasn’t used to it like this.

Harry sat at a table full of girls, much to his subconscious delight. He had Taylor sitting at his side and a group of pretty girls he had just met around him fawning all over him. It didn’t occur to him that perhaps that wasn’t quite so appropriate; the alcohol in him was no excuse. Taylor was convinced he should’ve known better.

While Taylor nursed her drink, she barely said a word. She couldn’t: whenever she tried to make her presence known, with comments or touches of Harry, she was looked down upon by the other girls. Like they were competing with her. Like they felt sorry for her. Like they wanted her to leave already so they could hook up with her boyfriend.

She felt like she was back in high school again, where no matter how hard she tried, she just wasn’t cool enough to sit with the beautiful girls at the popular table. It was a feeling she hadn’t wanted to relive, one she certainly hadn’t expected to have around Harry, of all people.

What was worse was he was totally oblivious. He didn’t even quite get that he was being flirted with, which wasn’t a first for him, but when it was so _obvious_ … Well, it was perfectly understandable why Taylor was upset.

When she got tired of being nothing but a seat-warmer, Taylor excused herself, intending on heading to the bathroom, and Harry gave her such a sweet smile as she got up that she thought he could be easily forgiven for his frustrating blindness.

It took Harry too long to realise that Taylor never came back. When he eventually did, he turned his head around to where Ed and a couple of their crew were sitting, only a few strangers with them, assuming she had just switched tables for a different conversation. But she wasn’t there either, and a quick scan around the rest of the bar confirmed she wasn’t anywhere in sight. A pang of concern pulled at his heart: it wasn’t like her to disappear like that.

Leaving the remaining third of his drink, Harry smiled apologetically at the girls as he told them he’d be back, receiving flirty pouts and little waves in return. He walked over to the other table, resting his hand on Ed’s shoulder as he leaned in to speak to him over the background noise.

“D’you know where Taylor went?”

“Back to the hotel,” Ed told him, looking at him a little strangely. “Said she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t tell you?”

The frown that pinched his brow answered for him. Taking his phone out of his back pocket, Harry checked to see if she had texted him, but he came up empty. Fuck.

“’m gonna get back, see how she’s doing,” he decided, already organising a car to take him back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

While he waited for an Uber, Harry ordered a bottle of water, sipping calmly despite his whirling thoughts. Why would Taylor just leave like that? Why wouldn’t she tell him if she wasn’t feeling well? He would’ve gone back to the hotel with her and made sure she was okay. It didn’t make any sense to him.

He sent her a message to let her know he was on his way back, but no matter how many times he clicked his screen on during the car ride, it remained unanswered, further unsettling him.

The hotel room was dark when he swiped himself in. Since Taylor had arrived, the lot of them had sorted out some room switches between themselves so that the two of them could be alone for most of their stays, for everyone’s benefit.

The room they had here was small, with only one double bed and some basic necessities. Harry switched on the bathroom light and let it flood out the open door and softly illuminate the main space, where he could properly see Taylor curled up in bed, her back to the door. Her clothes were left on top of her suitcase, folded neatly as always. Somehow, it now seemed too careful.

Slipping out of his shoes, Harry tiptoed around to her side of the bed, crouching down beside her. He delicately touched her cheek with the back of his hand, her skin feeling warm, the redness masked in the shadows. Her eyes remained closed as he pushed her fringe up to feel her forehead. She could do with a trim, but she hadn’t found the time to book a haircut lately.

Harry kissed her cheek gently, brushing his hand over her hair. After checking she had a glass of water on the nightstand, he wandered back over to the bathroom, not knowing she was actually still awake.

He went through his nightly routine, trying to keep quiet so not as to disturb her. He swished his hair out and had stepped back out to get changed when he heard a wet little sniffle.

“Tay?”

He didn’t get an answer, so he crawled up onto the bed over to her, resting his hand on her carefully. “You okay, love?”

Tears dripping down her face, Taylor wiped under her nose with her hand. She still didn’t reply, which only worried him more.

“Taylor? Love, what’s wrong? How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she spoke almost inaudibly, refusing to turn to face him.

Of course he didn’t believe her. Instead of pushing, though, Harry cuddled up to her over the blankets comfortingly. She would talk when she was ready.

It took a little while, her voice thick in her throat when she finally managed to string together a sentence. “You don’t need me anymore.”

Brow furrowing, Harry inched a tad closer. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve got this whole new life and you don’t need me in it.”

“That’s crazy,” he said, hurt that she would say such a thing.

“Is it?” Taylor shifted onto her back, and despite the shadow he cast on her, he could clearly see the pain in her expression. “I had to sit around and watch a table full of girls flirt with you even though I was _right there_. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“You know it was. You barely paid any attention to me with all those pretty girls hitting on you.”

“I was being _nice_. Do you want me to stop being friendly to other girls in case they get the wrong idea?”

“No! No, of course not. But you didn’t even notice I never came back. I waited, but you never came looking.”

“I did.”

“Yeah, _after_ I left. That was too _late,_ Harry.”

He sighed; she was right. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not just that,” Taylor said, sitting up and pulling her arms out from under the blankets, folding her hands in her lap and keeping her head down. “Some days we hardly even talk. I’m not trying to be one of those possessive girlfriends – I get that you’re busy and I am too and I can’t expect us to be constantly in contact – but it still hurts. Like, you’re off having all this fun and I’m… alone. In our apartment. Filled with everything that reminds me of you. And I can’t stop thinking you’re not gonna want to come back.”

Resting his hand on her arm reassuringly, he sighed, his intense stare watching her intently. _“Taylor.”_

“You’re growing up and I’m getting left behind,” she near whispered, and when she started crying again, it was Harry’s first instinct to wrap her up in his arms. She struggled a little against it at first, but she soon relented, letting him pull her into his chest and comfort her with his strong arms wrapped around her.

While she soaked the front of his shirt with her tears, it started to make sense to Harry. She hadn’t only flown over when she did because of her long-time dream to visit Paris, or for the opportunity to travel like she always wanted, at a discounted rate thanks to things having already been sorted for Harry. It wasn’t just because she missed him, either – Taylor was scared. She was scared of what he was getting up to on his own, scared that he would find someone else, scared that he wouldn’t want her anymore after experiencing this new life.

When Harry had first been offered his contract and was set up with a management team, he’d been told by PR that it would be better for his image if he didn’t have a girlfriend. “It’ll make you appear attainable, make fans think they have a shot with you,” he’d been told, and he’d been adamant that the idea was bullshit. It was meant to be about the music – if people liked his stuff, they were going to listen, regardless of whether he was in a relationship or not. He had been firm in telling them that he would never leave Taylor for something as petty as popularity, wisely leaving out the part about where they could shove their stupid theory. He had never told Taylor about the meeting, and he was damn glad he had kept it to himself; that seed of doubt didn’t need to be planted in her mind.

Things weren’t quite the same between them, that was true. For the most part, they were just happy to be spending time together again, but there was something a little off about how Taylor looked at him sometimes, with a touch of wistfulness in her eyes. He had assumed it was because she knew she wasn’t staying long, but he understood now that she was trying to figure out what she meant to him now that things were different.

Harry knew he could’ve – _should’ve_ – tried harder. It was easy to get caught up in the tour and all that came with it, too easy perhaps. He sometimes took too long to reply to her messages, and he wasn’t always available for a video chat or phone call when she wanted. But it hadn’t occurred to him that in doing so he was making her feel like she wasn’t as important to him as she was. He hated the thought that he had given her the idea that he didn’t care as much about her anymore, that he didn’t _love_ her as much.

He’d do anything to make it right.

Eventually, Taylor pulled back from him, wiping her face with the long sleeves of her pyjama top. “I wanted you to follow your dreams _so badly_ and I feel like such a selfish bitch for wishing you were back home with me,” she muttered, and he tilted her chin up, making her eyes meet his.

“Guess that makes me one too, for wanting you to stay for the rest of the tour,” he concluded. “Wanted you here for all of it, really. I didn’t want to ask and take you away from your own stuff.”

Taylor sighed, dropping eye contact and tugging her sleeves down over her hands. “Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you know it’s what I want to hear?”

“Why would you even ask that?” he said, a tad offended.

“I’m not joking, Harry.” She looked back up at him seriously. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why do I feel like you’d be perfectly fine without me?!”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “This isn’t easy for me either, you know?”

“Oh, no, it can’t be easy being hit on by girls everywhere you go,” she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Fucking hell, Taylor, you know I would never go behind your back like that.”

“I’ve been wrong about people before.”

What he hated most about their arguments was their stubbornness. They were both capable of standing their ground, neither backing down easily. It was frustrating, relied on one of them having the sense to call a time out before they ended up saying things they would come to regret.

“Are you serious about us?” Taylor asked him. “Do you see us having a future, or am I just a bit of fun for you until someone else comes along? I need to know that I’m not planning a future with someone who thinks I’m temporary.”

“Jesus, Taylor,” Harry said, shaking his head as he leaned back on his hands.

“Answer the question,” she demanded. “It’s not that hard. You either feel it or you don’t, and if you don’t, I’m packing my bags. I’m not gonna be the girl who sits around waiting to get her heart broken, not anymore.”

“How do you have no fucking idea?” he snapped without really meaning to. “I fell for you the minute I saw you. I spent _months_ pretending I didn’t have feelings for you, and the closer we got the harder it was. It fucking _killed_ me to watch you with Sam when I was in love with you, the whole time. The whole _fucking_ time!” He ran his hand through his hair, shaking it out habitually. “I’ve never felt how I feel about you about anyone else before.”

“You’re twenty-three,” she pointed out dryly.

“Then you’d understand why it’s fucking scary for me!” he said, and he thought he saw her soften a little. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. I _adore_ you, Taylor, I really do. I admire every little thing about you. God, I practically worship the ground you walk on – how can you not see that?” Despite his determined stare, she didn’t answer. “I didn’t think I would find what we have so soon.”

Taylor dropped her gaze again, picking at the bedspread. “I didn’t know you were scared, too,” she said quietly, and when he reached for her hand, she gladly let him intertwine their fingers, his touch familiar and reassuring.

“I’m in love with you,” Harry spoke softly, leaning in a bit closer to her. “I don’t want to let you down. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“I believe you,” she promised with conviction, finding his eyes again. “I’m so sorry if I’ve made you feel pressured about having everything figured out. I forget that I’m older than you. It’s okay that you’re not ready for all that – I don’t think I am either, really.”

“I really want to be that for you,” he made sure she knew. “I do really want to be your, you know, _Prince Charming_.”

Harry cracked a smile, relief flooding him when Taylor offered him one too.

“I would be honoured,” she said, blushing a little as he lifted her hand to his lips and he kissed each of her knuckles.

“We’re going to be alright, love,” he assured her, relieved the heat had dissipated without too much trouble. “Aren’t we?”

She nodded a bit, sighing. “This is just harder than I thought it was going to be.”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Harry kissed her lightly with a tenderness Taylor appreciated more than he ever knew. “Just… I want you to know, wherever I go, you’ll bring me home. Always.”

 

*** * * * ***

Despite coming to an understanding, Harry woke the next morning in an empty bed. There was a note left on the table – _‘Be back soon. T’_ – with no hint as to when she had left or how soon “soon” was. It left him a little unsettled, but he poured himself some breakfast from a travel box of chocolate cereal regardless. Her absence didn’t necessarily mean anything. She could’ve popped out for anything. It was all good.

Except he couldn’t stop thinking that Taylor was still upset with him. He ended up going next door to Ed’s room, flopping down on his unmade bed and finding relaxation in listening to him strum on his guitar.

“I like that,” Harry hummed, lazily pointing over at where Ed sat on one of the nearby chairs. He had his eyes closed, enjoying the music. “Is that new?”

“It’s not finished yet,” Ed let him know, keeping up with the gentle chords.

“Can you sing it?”

“When it’s done, yeah.”

Harry nodded, accepting the wait. He knew Ed liked to keep to himself when he was working on certain things; he was like that too, more so out of insecurity. Even though his writing was always improving, he was still nervous about what other people thought, his friends especially.

“D’you think she’s still mad at me?” Harry asked after a while, tucking his arm under his head.

“You said you worked it out, didn’t you?” Ed reminded him. He was always willing to be an open ear, which Harry had come to particularly appreciate in recent times.

“Yeah, but like, what if she woke up and changed her mind?” he pondered. “She hasn’t texted me, it’s weird.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Ed told him, letting his hand drop from the strings. “I’m sure she’s got a good reason for wherever she went. She’ll probably be back any minute now.”

“I hope so. It’s starting to rain,” Harry commented, looking over at the window at the sound of raindrops patting against the glass.

Harry hung around for a little longer, giving Ed some space when he went back to scribbling something down in a notebook. He sat back on the bed in his own room, picking up his own guitar and playing around with a few chords. He knew he should be working on some stuff for the album, but he hadn’t found inspiration lately.

After last night, though, he might just have something.

He had his journal and a pen laid out beside him, noting down some lines and melodies that came to him, nothing quite in a proper order. He could feel it though, that itch of wanting to put a feeling into something greater. His best work came when he wasn’t trying to force it.

Losing himself in his writing, Harry almost forgot about everything else. He was working over a line – _“We don’t know where we’re going but we know where we belong”_ – when the door suddenly burst open, startling him out of his creative bubble.

Taylor walked in, soaked from head to toe, carrying shopping bags and a smile. “I got lunch,” she said, surprisingly perky considering the state she was in.

“Shit, Tay.” Harry looked at her with wide eyes, setting his guitar down and hopping up over to her. “You must be freezing.”

“An umbrella would’ve been nice,” she laughed, putting the wet bags onto the ground. Her hair was plastered to her face, water droplets still stuck to her skin, clothes nearly drenched all the way through. How she wasn’t shivering madly, he hadn’t a clue.

“Get in the shower, babe. I don’t want you getting sick,” he instructed, frowning as he tried to push some of her hair back for her.

“Let me just grab some clothes–”

“I’ll find something for you. You just go get warm.”

Smiling thankfully, Taylor kissed him on the cheek, her cold nose bumping against his skin.

When she slipped into the bathroom and started running a hot shower, Harry rummaged around their things for something for her to change into. He grabbed her workout leggings and one of his cosiest jumpers, as well as a new set of underwear in case she really had gotten soaked through. He left them in a pile in the bathroom, cheekily sticking his head through the shower curtain instead of walking straight out.

“Hey, sexy.”

Taylor giggled as she rubbed shampoo into her hair, figuring she might as well freshen up while she was in there. “Have you come to watch me?”

“Well I wasn’t going to, but now you mention it, I might pull up a chair,” he teased, dimples flashing at the sound of her laughter breaking through the shower stream. “Where’ve you been?”

“There were a couple things I needed to pick up, and I thought I’d surprise you with lunch. You can go eat, if you want.”

“I’m enjoying the view here much more.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and she covered her chest with her hands, grinning back at him. “C’mon,” he whined.

“There’s not enough room in here for the both of us,” Taylor assured him, though he was convinced they would be able to make do.

“Can’t I just watch you, then?”

“I’m just washing my hair, babe. It’s not that fascinating.”

“I think it is.”

“Oh my god, am I dating a psycho stalker who likes watching people in the shower?” she said with a mock gasp, laughing when he swatted her arm.

“I _will_ get in there,” he threatened, and she shook her head, giggling as she pushed him back when he playfully tried to climb in, clothes and all.

Letting her enjoy the rest of her shower in peace, Harry went to inspect the bags she had brought back. He found the bag with the food, pulling out two freshly-made kebabs. Moving his things off the bed, he got himself comfortable while he waited for her.

When Taylor re-emerged fifteen minutes or so later, fresh and changed and dry, she smiled as she climbed onto the bed with him. Her hair was fluffy from where she had blow dried it, puffing out in blonde waves around her face.

“Thanks for the sweater,” she said, plopping herself down beside him and crossing her legs.

“No worries,” he replied, lifting a lock of her hair and watching it float back into place. “You look a bit like a poodle.”

“A _poodle?!”_ she cried, laughing as she playfully smacked his arm. “That’s no way to flatter a girl.”

“’s not as curly as if you had let it dry naturally,” he commented. He had always liked her un-styled hair, the way it fell in more exaggerated waves after it dried, or in the morning when she achieved a perfectly messy bed head that always made her look so cute. He liked that she let him see her like that, before she got herself all made up, without being insecure or trying to hide.

“Please don’t liken me to a dog again,” Taylor warned him as she ran her hair through her tresses. “Maisie sent me a new picture of the cats earlier. They were sprawled out on her bed together, but like, you know when they do the thing where they sit like humans? They’re so weird.”

While Taylor was away, her friend Maisie had kindly agreed to take care of the cats for her. It was nicer than sticking them in a kennel, which they would’ve _hated_ , and it meant she could get regular updates on how they were doing. Maisie was always sending her photos and videos, making it easier for Taylor to be apart from her beloved pets.

They chatted a bit over lunch, Taylor explaining how she had gone out on what she thought would be a short trip to the nearby shopping mall and had ended up with her getting caught out in the rain just as it started falling heavier. She asked about what he had been playing, and Harry just shrugged it off like it wasn’t really anything, though the idea was still lingering in his mind, taking shape in his head. He thought he might be onto something really good.

Afterwards, with their things out of the way, Taylor took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over his affectionately. “I’m really glad we talked last night,” she said softly, offering him an equally gentle smile. “I’m sorry I kind of freaked out on you, but I’m glad we got it all out there.”

“Me too,” Harry agreed, bringing her hand up to kiss the back of it charmingly. He looked down at her slender fingers, and when he slipped his hand to hold hers loosely, stroking over her ring finger with his thumb, it brought a rosy blush to Taylor’s cheeks, her smile brightening when she realised what he meant.

One day, he was going to fill that space.

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Got a minute?”

“No,” Harry deadpanned, going to shut the door in Ed’s face before quickly breaking into a laugh and stepping aside to let him in.

As Ed strolled inside with his guitar, Taylor perked up from her spot on the bed, hitting pause on the movie they had been watching on the flat screen mounted on the wall. “Are we getting a serenade?” she eagerly asked, bouncing a little on the mattress.

They had just arrived in a new city only a few hours ago after a long ride in the tour bus, and Harry and Taylor had been relaxing together, enjoying a simple night together since she was leaving so soon.

“I’d rather you didn’t call it that,” Ed laughed lightly, pulling up one of the chairs while Harry lounged back on the bed, popping an M&M from the bag between them into his mouth. “You two still fighting over those?”

“I convinced her to show me some mercy,” Harry grinned, making Taylor roll her eyes.

To pass the time during the drive, the three of them had played countless rounds of UNO, with M&M’s as betting chips. Harry had found it incredibly unfair that he somehow ended up on the receiving end of most draw two’s and four’s, leaving him with large hands of cards and no hope of winning. He’d accused both of them of conspiring against him, had given Taylor an unnecessary but cheeky pat down to make sure she wasn’t stashing any good cards on her. Taylor especially found his frustration hilarious, and Ed assured her that he had always been that competitive when they played games in uni. It had been to Harry’s most delight when he finally got to slam down his final card before anyone else and collect the pile of chocolates on the table, only to lose most of them again.

In the end, though, when they checked into their hotel rooms, Harry had managed to convince Taylor to share her greater portion of M&M’s with him. He didn’t think Ed particularly wanted to know the game he had played with his tongue in order to get them.

“I want to show you guys something. Especially since you’re not here much longer,” Ed said, nodding towards Taylor as he cut to the chase. “I want you to be the first to hear it. I hope it’s… I really hope you like it.”

Running his hand through his ginger hair, Harry could tell Ed was nervous. He didn’t know quite what to expect.

Ed prolonged his surprise a little longer as he checked his guitar was in tune. He soon started plucking the strings, a gentle tune filling the quiet air.

_“Loving can hurt. Loving can hurt sometimes. But it’s the only thing that I know…”_

As Ed began to sing, it was Harry who first realised why he was playing this song for them. Not everything was true to them, but there was no denying who had sparked the inspiration for it.

Harry remembered sitting on a staircase, a Polaroid in his hand, the photograph he kept in the pocket of his ripped jeans. He remembered how much he had _missed_ Taylor in that moment, how he had wanted desperately to see her again. And yes, it did get hard sometimes – they’d learnt that over the last few months – but it was nothing that couldn’t get easier. They were never going to be alone.

Harry remembered kissing Taylor on Sixth Street while Ed was over. It had been a late night out and Ed had gotten ahead of them on the sidewalk, had looked back to find them kissing under a lamp post, one of those perfect moments that encapsulated how infatuated they were with each other.

Harry remembered whispering, “Wait for me to come home,” through the phone that night on the staircase. He never knew that Ed had heard.

He never knew that all this time, Ed had been putting a part of their love story into words, into a beautifully crafted song that despite being personal, would resonate with countless people around the world.

The room was still when Ed finished playing. Harry and Taylor had gravitated closer together throughout, his arm moving around her and her head resting on his shoulder as they listened. Taylor wiped under her eyes before she sat back up, shuffling off the end of the bed and going over to give Ed a hug. Harry followed suit, holding onto his friend long and gratefully, not just for the song, but for everything he had done for him this year. It was more than he ever could’ve asked for; he didn’t know where to even begin to repay him for all his generosity.

“Thank you,” Harry spoke quietly, and Taylor quickly nodded that she felt the same. To lighten the emotion in the atmosphere, he smiled, joked, “It all makes sense why you kept kicking me out all the time.”

“I did not,” Ed laughed, relieved that they didn’t seem offended he had used a part of their lives to create something special.

“I had no idea you were doing this,” Harry said, lightly punching Ed in the arm. “I fucking love you, man.”

“I love you, too,” Ed grinned, accepting Harry’s second hug gladly.

“I suddenly feel like a third wheel here,” Taylor teased, and when Harry pulled her into their embrace, she still said she was third wheeling, laughing when Harry moved his hand down to grab her ass to change her mind.

“So, are you gonna record it?” Taylor asked Ed when they all broke apart.

“I think I’d like to, if that’s alright?”

“If we get some royalties,” Harry joked, elbowing Ed hopefully. He pushed him away and Harry just grinned. “Let me know when you do it.”

“Course. You coming over for recordings next year?”

“Dunno. Haven’t really planned it out yet, might just stay in New York. Don’t want to leave this one for too long again,” he said, slinging his arm around Taylor’s waist and pulling her closer so their hips bumped. Taylor smiled at him, turning to hug around his middle.

“Or I could just come with you,” she suggested.

“Ahh, my number one groupie,” Harry teased, and when he gave her a quick kiss, Ed took a small step backwards, nearly falling back onto the chair he had been sitting on before.

“I think I’ll leave you to it.”

“What, you don’t want to join our movie night?” Harry asked, gesturing towards their set up on the bed.

“Don’t want to be a third wheel,” Ed smiled, which was a fair reason not to stick around. They were in the midst of watching a rom com, and they did tend to get a little lovey after those kinds of films. They were romantics, they couldn’t help it.

Before Ed could go to pick up his guitar, Taylor reached her hand out and touched his arm, smiling warmly at him. “Thank you so much for the song. Honestly, it’s beautiful – we really can’t thank you enough.”

Ed shrugged a little, as if he weren’t really that groundbreakingly talented. “You don’t have to do anything. Although – if you need a new character for one of your books, then I can’t say I’d mind that. As long as it’s a good one.”

Holding out her hand, Taylor grinned. “Deal.”

 

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want me to drive you?”

“I’d like to make it to the airport in one piece, thanks.”

“What are you suggesting, miss?”

“That when I first got in a car with you behind the wheel, your attention wasn’t on the road. You almost ran a red light because you were looking over at me. We could’ve _died_.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. It was true: when he had insisted on her being the passenger for a change when they got a car they could use to travel around a new city, he hadn’t been the most focused. He didn’t think he quite deserved the flack he always seemed to get for his wandering eyes and tendency to zip through yellow lights – it was normal, wasn’t it? At least he was better at parking than Taylor was.

“I could still take you,” he persisted.

“It’s best if you don’t. I’ll end up crying if you do, and I don’t want a repeat of the last time we said goodbye to each other,” Taylor said, leaning in to give him a kiss. It was time for her to head back home, as much as she wanted to stay for the last few shows. It wouldn’t be long before he would be joining her, anyway. They could survive the wait.

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Harry checked, glancing down at the suitcase sitting upright beside her. He had his arms hugged around her waist, holding her close, making the most of what they had left.

“I’m pretty sure. If not, it’s probably with your stuff,” Taylor thought, smiling at him as she snuck another kiss. “There’s one more thing I want to give you before I go.”

“Oh really?”

Harry smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, twisting his hair around her fingers at the nape of his neck. “Not like _that_ ,” she laughed, and when she pulled a hand away from around his neck and delved it into the pocket of her jacket, she retrieved a small black USB – not at all what he had been expecting. “Don’t show anyone what’s on it, and more importantly, don’t _lose it_.”

“What’s on it?” Harry asked curiously as he took the drive from her hand and inspected it, as if the answer would be clearly labelled on the side.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” she answered mysteriously.

“Am I going to like it?”

“I sure hope so,” she laughed, running her hand through his hair again. “Let me know what you think when you’re done.”

“You have me intrigued.”

“That’s the point.”

Slipping the drive into his back pocket, Harry was smiling as he kissed her again. Saying goodbye was never going to be easy, but at least this time they were parting on a lighter note. They were feeling more secure with each other, which was a wonderful thing.

“I should get going, babe,” Taylor interrupted, as much as she would’ve liked to continue kissing him for a few hours longer. “I don’t want to miss my flight.”

Harry accompanied her out to the sidewalk, offering to wheel her suitcase along for her. There was a car waiting outside for her that had been arranged in advance, and he bundled her luggage into the back, hugging her again before she could even think about climbing in after it.

“Let me know when you land,” he asked of her, holding onto her protectively. “And when you get home.”

“I will,” Taylor promised, breathing in one last waft of his cologne before she kissed him, a sweet kiss goodbye that would linger on their lips as a tingling memory. “Have fun with the rest of the tour, babe.”

He nodded, gaze taking in her features while he still could. “Give the cats hugs for me.”

“I’ll try,” she smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

With the driver impatiently telling them to get a move on, Taylor reluctantly slipped into the car before she ended up late, but before she could pull the door closed, Harry ducked his head in to sneak in one more kiss, cupping her cheek as he gave her one to remember. “Have a safe trip, love,” he wished her.

He waved her off, stayed watching on the path until he lost sight of the car. On the elevator ride back up to his hotel room, he found a message from Taylor on his phone – _“Miss you already”_ , with a broken heart emoji at the end. Harry smiled down at his screen as he sent her a couple full love hearts back. They were going to be fine.

Unsurprisingly, Harry immediately went for his laptop when he got back to his room. The start-up time seemed to take twice as long as usual as he twisted the USB Taylor had given him around in his hand. He inserted it as soon as the laptop loaded, tapping to open the folder.

There was only one thing on it: a PDF file simply labelled ‘TS1’. He double clicked to open it, the document filling the screen within seconds. In bold at the top was the word ‘Lovely’, underlined and followed by her name in a smaller font. His eyes widened when he next read ‘Chapter One’ on the next line.

Holy shit.

He had no idea she had actually finished it.

Grabbing his phone, he quickly hit dial on Taylor’s contact, eyes glazing over his computer screen as he waited for her to pick up.

“I don’t think I have to guess why you’re calling,” Taylor answered, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry questioned incredulously. “I didn’t know you were finished writing. Holy shit, Tay, this is amazing. There are so many _pages_.”

“Let me know when you’re done, okay? I really want to know what you think.”

“I’m sure it’s fucking fantastic,” he predicted, making her laugh.

“Listen, I gotta go, babe, but please try to read it as soon as you can. I finally finished a couple weeks ago and I’m dying to get it to a publisher, but I want your opinion first.”

“I’ll start now, love. Have a good flight.”

“Talk later, babe.”

After they hung up, Harry spent the rest of the day reading the novel he had never been allowed to know about until now. He’d had so many questions for so long, he could barely believe he was now finding out what exactly Taylor had been working on all this time.

He completely lost track of time lying on the bed with his Mac in front of him, his phone face down and neglected. He’d only gotten up once to pee and grab something to snack on, not realising how long he had been immersed in her writing until there was an insistent knocking on the door.

“You coming out for tea or not?” Ed asked him when he dragged himself up to open the door.

 _“Already?”_ Harry frowned, looking down at his watch. How had it gotten so late in the day?

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to message you for ages – what have you been doing?”

“Oh, um. Just reading.”

“Must be a good book.”

That was an understatement.

“So, you coming? There’s a decent place near here, apparently.”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

All through dinner at a nearby steakhouse with Ed and a couple of the other lads, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the story sitting on his laptop.

Taylor was a magnificent writer. He already knew this from the poetry she did let him read, but it was much different reading a full-length novel. He was completely captivated: it was a coming-of-age story told from the perspective of a teenage girl, which sounded like something that could so easily get lost amongst the thousands of others, only it was so _good_. It was a compelling story of betrayal and losing who you were; it was learning to love yourself without needing anyone else’s validation. It was important, was going to resonate with countless of young people around the world, and Harry was itching to find out what happened in the end.

Then there was the main male character, which had a strikingly similarity to _him_. The conversation he had briefly overheard at a café between Taylor and Karlie now made sense, and despite what she had said, it was unlikely that it was just a coincidence that the protagonist befriends a cute boy with green eyes and a dimpled smile that could win hearts with just one look. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the character called the girl ‘lovely’.

Harry couldn’t even begin to describe the awe he felt for having been a source of her inspiration.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t, Harry stayed up for hours finishing the book. He should’ve been getting a good rest for the show they had the next night, but he couldn’t shut his laptop off until he found out what happened. He was glad to hear Taylor had made it home safely, and he sent her an update of where he was up to. She told him to get some sleep, though he was sure she was flattered he was staying up just for her.

In the early hours of the morning, Harry finally switched off and sent Taylor a message before he went to bed: _‘Loved it. Thank you for sharing with me. I’m so proud of you, Miss Future Bestseller. FaceTime tomorrow? Good night, my love xx’_

*** * * * *  
* * * * ***

 

Their very last stop on this leg of the tour came too quickly, all the way in Sydney. It was wild to think that there were people so far from home that were interested in seeing them perform; Harry wasn’t quite ready for it to end. This whole trip had been an incredible experience, and the thought that he would be able to do this again already had him itching with excitement.

With a sunny summer’s day upon them, Harry and Ed made the most of it, spending the afternoon mucking around in the outdoor hotel pool. Harry almost got himself kicked out for breaking the ‘no backflips’ rule, which he didn’t think was very fair considering he hadn’t even seen a sign stating so, but rather a little boy doing one first without punishment. The whole ordeal left them in fits of laughter. He was really going to miss hanging out with Ed once they went their separate ways.

They eventually retreated back up to their shared room, figuring they should probably get the smell of chlorine off themselves before they left for their last show that night.

While Ed took the shower first (he wasn’t taking any chances on running out of hot water thanks to Harry’s timely efforts to shampoo his long hair like had happened many a time during uni), Harry dripped water everywhere as he sat down at the table and checked his phone. He hadn’t kept it on him for most of the day, and despite the early time stamp on the message Taylor had sent him about video calling, he still thought it was fine to send her a FaceTime request right then regardless.

She didn’t pick up on the first try, but on the second, Taylor filled his screen with an unexpected blackness. “’m sleeping,” she mumbled, and immediately he was struck with guilt. He hadn’t even considered the time difference.

“Sorry, love. I just read your message,” he said softly, trying to make her out in the darkness. “I’ll let you get back to sleep, we’ll talk later.”

“No, it’s okay. Just give me a minute.”

“We really don’t have to now.”

“I want to.”

There was a rustling as she leaned over to flick the bedside lamp on, and he could partly see her in the yellowish glow as she fumbled to find her glasses. He really thought they should just wait until later when she had had her rest, but he had to admit, he was happy to be talking to her.

When Taylor settled back with her head on the pillow, lying on her side with her phone out in front of her, she looked so soft and sleepy he wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in a cuddle.

“Hey, baby,” she sighed when she got a proper look at him on the screen. “You’re all wet.”

“You’re all beautiful,” he replied charmingly and truthfully. Taylor smiled sweetly, hiding her face in the pillow, the wide frames of her glasses pressing into her head.

“I just woke up.”

“And you look adorable, my love.”

“Thank you,” she said gently, turning back to look at him. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Been down in the pool, ‘s really nice. We’re going to the beach tomorrow, should be a perfect day for it.”

“Way to rub it in,” she laughed lightly, tugging up the blankets around herself. She was bundled up for a cold winter’s night while he was comfortably in nothing but his swim trunks – it wasn’t hard to guess who would rather be where.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to come back,” he teased, leaning back in the chair he was in. “I’ll just call my mum, tell her I’m not stopping by anymore.”

“I doubt she’ll like that,” she thought. “Mine wants to make sure you’re definitely coming. Should I tell her you’ve bailed on us for the call of summer?”

“Yep.”

Once they wrapped things up, Harry was planning on heading back to the UK to spend time with his family before Christmas. This year, he was invited to the Swift’s celebrations, and he was part eager to see where she had grown up and part terrified about meeting her parents. He’d spoken to them on Skype before, but meeting them in person was going to be a whole different thing. He just prayed they liked him and thought he was good enough for their daughter.

“I can’t wait to see you, love. I’m definitely coming,” Harry assured her, smiling at her warmly.

“Mom’s going all Super Mom for it. Like, she’s already got all the food she’s gonna make listed – she keeps asking me what you like. The whole house is already decorated, though it wouldn’t surprise me if she ends up buying more.”

“Sounds like you.”

“It really does,” she smiled back. “She just wants you to feel at home with us. She feels bad that you’re not going to be with your own family for the holiday.”

“I’m happy to be staying with you.”

“You might want to keep your shirt on, though.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grinned, running his hand over his inked chest that her father especially didn’t approve of. She had tried to assure him that he had made a good impression on her dad via their video chat encounter, but he would have to wait until they met in person to find out if that was really true.

“There’s something I wanna show you – why I messaged you earlier,” Taylor said, her other hand popping up from out of the blankets to brush her bangs out of her eyes. “Means I gotta move again, though.”

“Oh, what an _effort_ ,” he teased, and even after all this time, his heart still did a little leap whenever he made her giggle.

“Give me a sec.”

While she leaned over, Taylor left her phone on top of the nightstand, leaving him with a view of the ceiling as she rummaged through the drawer. She soon righted herself, and she held the bits of paper she had collected up to her front camera.

“Can you see properly?”

It took a moment for it to focus on the writing in the muted light. They were tickets – concert tickets – and Harry’s eyes widened when he read the headliner printed clearly on the front.

“You said you missed out on those.”

“I kind of lied.” Taylor lowered the tickets, smiling at him excitedly. “I wanted to surprise you as like, a congrats for everything. They arrived yesterday.”

Grinning, Harry rubbed his hand over his face. “That’s fucking awesome, babe.”

It was very fitting that their first proper concert together was going to be The 1975. It seemed like eons ago that Taylor had sung along with him to one of their songs while he was in the shower – neither could’ve pictured this was how they were going to end up. Fucking awesome it was indeed.

“You gotta make sure you’re here for it,” she emphasised. “You’ll love it. It’s been so long since I’ve been to MSG. _Oh,_ also, I wanted to ask, Kar wants to organise a Broadway night – did you wanna come? We’re looking at–”

She cut herself off with a yelp of surprise as there was suddenly a paw pressing on the side of her neck. Olivia casually climbed over her like she was nothing but a part of the furniture, giving Harry an unnecessary close up as she sniffed Taylor’s phone. At least he didn’t have the unfortunate view of her backside that Taylor did.

“What are you _doing?”_ Taylor giggled, momentarily shifting to set the tickets safely aside and move her cat into a more convenient position. She got Olivia to lay down next to her, coaxing her to stay with relaxing strokes of her head.

“Can’t say I miss having that happen,” Harry chuckled.

“I can’t imagine why,” she smiled back at him. “How can you not enjoy waking up with a paw in your mouth?”

“That was fucking disgusting,” he laughed, shaking his head at the memory. What had started off as a pleasant afternoon nap during autumn had a gross ending when Olivia had not only interrupted him by walking over him, but by stepping right on his open mouth. The unexpected sensation had jolted him out of sleep, freaked both of them the fuck out, while Taylor had struggled to stop laughing when she came in to investigate. Brushing his teeth twice and chewing on a stick of gum hadn’t seemed like enough to cleanse his mouth of the taste of cat’s paw.

“She misses you,” Taylor told him, though judging by Olivia’s expression, that didn’t seem to be the case. Then again, that was just her face.

“I miss _you_ ,” Harry countered, and while his words made Taylor’s heart sing, it had Ed quietly groaning as he stepped out through the bathroom door.

“I’m going back in,” he muttered, missing Taylor’s smile widen as he went to hang his wet clothes to dry.

“I heard that,” she said, louder, and Ed came up to say hello, ducking behind Harry’s chair to get himself in the frame.

“Isn’t it the middle of the night there?”

“At least _someone_ acknowledges the time difference,” she pointedly teased, and Harry shrugged guiltily.

“I forgot, okay?”

“How are you doing?” Ed asked her.

“Aside from my cat plotting my demise by trying to stand on my throat, I’m good,” Taylor smiled, stroking Olivia’s soft little ears, having her completely contented cuddled up against her. “You guys excited for tonight?”

Harry nodded quickly. “I’d like to go out with a bang. Haven’t figured out the bang part yet, though. We can’t have fireworks inside.”

“We probably can’t have sparklers, either,” Ed thought.

“How about party poppers?” Harry suggested. “They’re pretty harmless. Do you think it’s too late to get a confetti cannon? Or a bubble machine, even?”

Taylor held back a laugh. “You’re ridiculous. You don’t need any of that. You already put on a good show.”

“But who doesn’t love confetti and bubbles?”

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m dating a toddler?”

“Fuck off, you’re weak for anything with glitter on it. I can _see_ the glitter in your nail polish right now.”

Taylor stuck her tongue out at him childishly, and the lot of them just laughed.

“We’ll have to get going soon, so if you still want to shower, you should get onto that,” Ed said, patting Harry’s bare shoulder. “We know how long you take.”

“That is unfair. I don’t take _that_ long.”

“Not since you cut your hair. But you kind of did before,” Taylor reminded him. After hearing him shower for coming on two years now, she was pretty familiar with the time he took. They wasted a lot more water when they got in together.

“Alright, alright,” Harry said, raising a hand in surrender. “Can we talk again later, love? When it’s better for you?”

“Course. Just message me after the show. Good luck, both of you.”

“Thanks. You have a good rest of your night,” Ed smiled at her before stepping away for the soppy goodbyes he knew were coming.

“I’m so proud of you,” Taylor sighed, and no matter how many times she emphasised the fact, it never stopped making Harry feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“You’ve got your interview on Monday, yeah?” he checked, and she nodded. “They’re going to love you, Tay.”

“I really hope so.”

Finally, Taylor had managed to score herself an interview with a publisher about getting her work out there. She was incredibly nervous, but Harry had a good feeling about it – much like she had when he was going for a recording contract. It felt good to have that kind of endless support.

“Have fun tonight, babe. I’ll see if I can find some videos online later.”

“My biggest fan,” Harry grinned, hand over heart. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They blew kisses at each other before they signed off, Harry immediately sending her a _‘Good night, beautiful xx (sorry for waking you)’_ text that she appreciated greatly. He was trying harder to make sure they kept up with each other, and since she had flown back to New York, Taylor hadn’t once questioned his devotion to her. They were as strong as ever.

The few hours before show time seemed to fly by. Harry showered, dressed and styled his hair in swoon-worthy tousles in time for the car to take them to the venue, where they went through soundcheck and had something to eat backstage routinely. John turned down Harry’s suggestions for a big finish, which wasn’t exactly surprising. No amount of pouting appeared to change his mind, and he was tempted just to go out and buy some party poppers himself, if it weren’t for the guy manning the back door with the gleaming bald head that reminded Harry of a bowling ball. Getting into trouble on his last day wasn’t exactly in his best interests, anyway.

Although, when he was being perfectly behaved sitting backstage with a guitar singing ‘My Heart Will Go On’ with dramatic passion to Ed, he still got a strange look from John, so perhaps it didn’t so much matter what he did after all.

“You ready?” John asked him for the last time as they stood in the wings.

“Not unless you organised some confetti while I wasn’t listening,” Harry cheekily replied, and John just rolled his eyes.

“Get out there, mate.”

For the last time for a while, Harry counted his steps out onto the stage, played that first chord, and heard a multitude of screams as the lights came up.

It was amazing how far he had come over the last few months. His confidence in himself had grown significantly and he felt so much more comfortable on stage, moving around instead of staying planted at the mic. He had visions of how he wanted to do this when it was his turn to be the main event: he wanted a band up there with him, wanted to play around more with the rockier sounds he liked listening to. He’d doubted so much whether or not he could really make a career out of this, and now, he actually saw a future in music that didn’t end with disappointment and zero dollars in his bank account. He could do this. He _was_ doing it.

It had taken him some time, but he was finally living his dream – making music, playing on stage, having a great group of mates and a girlfriend who was everything he ever could’ve imagined – and honestly, it was fucking _sick_.

“I’ve got one more song for you,” Harry spoke into the microphone near the end of his set, combing his hand through his sweaty hair as he was met with resounding disappointed _aww_ ’s. “I just wanna say something first, if that’s alright?

“This tour has been… really fucking incredible,” he voiced simply, grinning at the screams he heard back. “It’s our last show – for a while, anyway – and you’ve been amazing. I hope you’ll be even better to my mate Ed.”

The screams indicated yes.

“I remember listening to Ed play his guitar through the walls of our dorm house at uni. I always knew he didn’t really want to be there and that he was gonna make it big one day and prove everyone who thought a little ginger lad couldn’t wrong.”

Glancing to the wings, Harry just managed to see Ed watching as he always did, smiling back at him thankfully.

“He’s a good lad. Fucking crazy for letting me come along for the ride, but I’m not complaining,” he laughed, the audience cheering back. “I’m very lucky to have such supportive people in my life, and I hope all of you do, too. If you need one more – I believe in you. Every single one of you. Sometimes that’s all you need to hear: _I believe in you._ It got me here and I hope it gets you where you want to go.

“I’m, um. I’m going to be doing some stuff next year. If you find yourself in New York, come say hi. I’ll be around. I hope I’ll be back here again sometime, too, if you’ll have me.

“So, um, yeah. This is my last song. I wrote it looking out a window one afternoon. That sounds a bit lame, actually, doesn’t it? Forget that. It’s called ‘Skylight’.”

And so Harry sung his last song, a lovely little one that Taylor had offered her poetic mind to when he once struggled while gazing out from their window seat, and after blowing kisses out to the crowd on his way backstage, that was it.

He was coming home.


	9. Epilogue

“What did the buffalo say when he dropped his kid off at school?”

“What?”

“Bye, son.”

There was a moment of silence between them before they both cracked into laughter.

It was a crisp October late afternoon, cooling down as the sun began to descend towards the horizon. They’d waited longer than they had planned to for cups of coffee thanks to a post-work rush at Starbucks, Taylor not the only one in need of a pick-me-up after her day’s shift. They took their pumpkin spice lattes (it was autumn: Taylor couldn’t get enough of them) as they went for a walk through Central Park, both feeling like they belonged.

Over the past near-two years, a lot had happened for the both of them. Many writing and recording sessions after Ed’s tour had ended (they’d ended up spending another month together touring North America after a couple month’s break, which was sick), Harry had finally worked up enough material he was happy with to release a self-titled album. It had been crazy – Taylor and Karlie had thrown him a party on release day, overwhelming him with how much the friends he had made here actually cared about him. He’d been swarmed with positive responses online, too, from the fans he had managed to build up during his time spent opening for Ed and all the bars he had played at since. He was a regular at open mic nights, as well as scoring his own longer slots for acoustic sets in a couple of his favoured bars.

When it had come to touring later on in the year, Harry had wanted to keep it on a small scale. During the creative process, he had met an array of really fucking cool musicians who were more than happy to form his backing band, and they went along with him as he played some shows around Europe. People loved it – _they_ all loved it – and when they each went back home for the holidays, they were ready for more.

Their North American leg of the tour went well, despite some fears the record label had had. For Harry, he had especially loved it because Taylor had managed to book the time off from her job at the old bookstore and she had come along with him for the whole thing. It was an adventure, crossing different cities, meeting weird and wonderful people. They didn’t regret a thing.

To keep himself occupied (and to make sure they never fell short on rent), Harry had taken up a casual job in one of New York’s many ice cream shops to fill the days he wasn’t busy with his music. The manager didn’t particularly appreciate his extended holidays for touring, but customers loved him because he was always so friendly and he was always willing to help out, so they didn’t really want to get rid of him either. Besides, when they realised he wasn’t just another broke musician with little hope of ever making it big, it was an advantage having him around. Their customers had increased since he had been hired, which couldn’t be a coincidence. Heck, he looked so cute in the pink and white pinstriped shirt and ever-present smile, people who didn’t even know who he was wanted to come back just to see him again.

He’d been back to _A.N.Y._ since his departure. He still kept up with everyone there – Jared especially, who still liked to send him theories about things even if they never ended up ringing true. Mallory, too, who had moved on to a position at _Teen Vogue_ , where she hoped her talents would help her advance further up the fashion hierarchy. He had met the new guy that had replaced him, who had even reviewed his album in an issue of the magazine, on account of someone in the office surely leaving a copy on his desk. Good things had been said, thank god. Liza probably wouldn’t have let it go to print otherwise.

Taylor’s interview with the publisher back after the tour had been a success – as was the reception of her debut novel. ‘Lovely’ was picked up off bookshelves all across America, around the same time Harry’s album had been released. Thanks to her publisher’s faith in her (as well as her sales record), she had already managed to pen another book in a fraction of the time her first had taken since she had graduated for the second time and was free to do as she liked. She had decided to hold off on getting up in front of a classroom – she would always have her degrees she could turn to, but for now, all she wanted was to write.

In their true endlessly-supportive fashion, they had a copy of Harry’s EP and CD displayed in their apartment alongside Taylor’s book, space ready for when her next went to print next month. While Harry showed what she meant to him through his lyrics, at the front of ‘Lovely’, Taylor had dedicated it, “For everyone who believed in me. Especially the lovely one with the dimples and curls.” In the acknowledgements, she had named her family, her editor, her publisher, a handful of friends, and him. She’d been warned against it, in case they broke up and she regretted having, “And last but by no means least, Harry, for inspiring me every day,” permanently printed on thousands of books, but she had done to them what Harry had done to his PR. They were coming up on their third anniversary – nothing was coming between them.

Especially if things worked out like he was really hoping they would.

“I can see you saying that while you drop a kid off at school and them just _running_ away from you,” Taylor teased him, laughing. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him as they walked along, hardly noticed by anyone else around. They were stopped occasionally when Harry was recognised, but it was nothing too confronting. There weren’t paps chasing them down – not yet, anyway.

“You underestimate my bond with children,” he breezily informed her, grinning back confidently.

“Oh, right – they’re your perfect audience!” she realised, trying to get out his way when he dropped her hand and went to give her a chastising tap on the bum. Taylor giggled as he caught her, happily wrapping her arm around him as his settled around her waist.

They didn’t have the same raging sparks that had been there when they first got together, yet their familiarity and comfort with one another had never become a bore. They could read each other near perfectly, with looks and gestures, and they had more inside jokes than Harry did bad puns. Their relationship was just the uncomplicated kind that Taylor had always dreamed about being in. He might not be a knight in shining armour, but Harry was kind and gentle, intelligent and considerate, silly and effervescent. He looked at her like she was the sun, and even as her flower, he was her equal. Always.

Over the summer, they did what Taylor had never been brave enough to do before on her own. On their ankles, they permanently bonded themselves together with that dreamy thought Harry had aired on her birthday after they’d just gotten together. Harry got a little drawing of a sun, much more delicate than most of his tats, and Taylor got a tiny outline of a rose tattooed on the same spot on her ankle as his – both of which they had drawn for each other for extra sentimentality. Her dad still didn’t know about it.

They now sat down side by side on an empty patch of grass, stretching their legs out as the sky turned pink above them. They loved watching sunsets and had been lucky enough to see night fall upon many different cities. The New York skyline was one they weren’t likely to forget.

“Do you wanna go for a picnic on Sunday? It’s meant to be a nice day for it,” Taylor suggested, smiling as Harry leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“I’d love to.”

Taylor twisted slightly towards him as she gave him a proper kiss. They weren’t huge on PDA – they held hands mostly, but when the moment took them…

“I’ve got something for you,” Harry told her, words tumbling out as soon as she broke away. Taylor looked at him curiously as he blinked at her, a tendril of hair flopping on his forehead as he looked down to reach the inside pocket of his coat. While Taylor had kept her hair flowy and just below her shoulders, occasionally tempted to chop a few inches off again, Harry had cut his short before his album release, a new beginning of sorts, and had kept it in a perfect state of tousled and grown out since.

What Harry had been keeping safe in his secret pocket since he and Taylor had met up was a journal. A burgundy leather-bound journal that he had gotten monogrammed with her initials ‘TAS’ printed gold on the front. It was gorgeous, and when he passed it over to her, Taylor clutched it in her hands in awe that he would go to the trouble of getting her something like this out of the blue.

“Open it,” he encouraged, and he watched with a racing heart as she carefully slipped the elastic off the edge and began flicking through the crisp pages tipped with gold on the edges. This time, he hadn’t written anything for her inside – that was all up to her. There was a different surprise he had for her in there.

“Harry, you really didn’t have to do this,” Taylor sighed, visibly grateful that he had. “I love it, I honestly do.”

She was about to lean in to give him a thank you kiss when she noticed something tucked into the little sleeve at the front of the journal. “What’s this?” she asked. It wasn’t the right shape to be a bit of paper he’d folded and left for her with a note scrawled on it, like they liked to leave around for each other sometimes. She didn’t know what she was expecting, and what she found hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Jaw dropped and eyes blown wide, Taylor could barely breathe out _“Oh my god”_ as she looked down at the ring she slipped out into her hand. The ring. The beautiful ring with a classic cut diamond set onto a silver band that twisted up to hold the perfect jewel up proudly. The ring that was understated yet no less stunning, much like the rest of the jewellery Taylor owned. The ring that Harry had kept stuffed in amongst his socks for weeks, waiting for the right moment to give to her.

Why today felt right, he couldn’t really say. He just couldn’t wait any longer, and with the setting sun casting soft pinks and oranges over the sky, perhaps there wasn’t a more magnificent time or a more fitting place.

“Taylor,” Harry spoke softly, bringing his hands up to hold the one of hers that was grasping the ring as if she had never held anything that precious before in her life. His eyes locked on hers and the whole speech he had been writing and re-writing in his head slipped away, leaving him momentarily wordless as he looked at the woman he loved.

As he shifted himself to rest on one knee, Taylor smiled at him with so much truth, so much devotion and excitement, that he thought his heart might just explode with how exponentially he felt for her.

“Taylor, my love,” he began warmly, dimples flashing with the smile he couldn’t wipe off his face, butterflies dancing around in his stomach. “You are the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met. When I’m with you, I feel… I feel like, this is it, you know? This is my person. The person that gets me, that inspires me and challenges me and makes me look forward to every day. Just knowing you’re there – you make _every day_ brighter.

“From when we first met, I’ve always looked forward to seeing you next. I’ve always loved making you smile and when you laugh, it’s like… there’s no better feeling. There’s nothing that feels better to me than bringing you happiness.”

He paused, licking his lips nervously.

“You look like you’re about to cry and it’s kind of off-putting.”

Despite the tears welling in her eyes – tears of joy – Taylor laughed, shaking her head, her smile only seeming to grow as he spoke. “Please keep going,” she said breathlessly.

Laughing, he flicked his hair aside with a toss of his head, wanting desperately to kiss her already.

“I’m in love with you, Taylor. Always have been and I always will. It would be an _honour_ if I could spend the rest of my life with you.”

She was nodding before he even asked the question.

“Will you please marry me?”

_“Yes,”_ Taylor instantly replied, needing not even a second to think. They had both known for a long time that this was it: there was no one else for them.

Harry had never really known if he truly believed in soulmates. It didn’t seem right that there was only one person in the entire world that was made for you, a person you may never get to meet and leave you going your whole life making choices with the wrong people. Perhaps it didn’t make sense until you met someone who made every one of your senses feel alive, someone who, when they were gone, made it feel like a piece of you was missing. Someone who brought meaning into every love song, someone to share your secrets and the little things that happened in your day with. Someone that laughed at your jokes and hugged you while combing your hair when you couldn’t get to sleep. Someone who wasn’t afraid to tell you when you were wrong and was the first to tell you they were proud when things went right. Someone who, whenever you touched, felt like the universe was shifting so the stars aligned, just for the two of you.

As Harry slipped the ring onto Taylor’s finger and they kissed with all the passion in the world, in the place where they had had their very first, Harry believed that there was no one else that his soul was destined to dance with ‘til the end of time other than Taylor’s.

At the very least, Harry had happily, unexpectedly, amazingly, wondrously, found home.


End file.
